Written in the Stars
by OanDuress
Summary: Albus sighed sadly. There, before him sat none other than Draco Malfoy who looked as if his world had come to an end. H/D slash. Disregards books 6&7 and a bit of book 5.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi. Well this is my first FanFiction so it kinda sucks. Please no flames and I don't have a Beta so there will be some mistakes but I will try to fix them to the best of my ability. Thanks and I hope you enjoy. **

_**Written in the Stars**_

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. _

_Born to those who have thrice defied him;_

_Born as the seventh month dies,_

_And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,_

_But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not,_

_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives._

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._

_But there is another,_

_One whose blood runs freely on the marble floors of the Light man's Palace,_

_One whose screams are irrelevant to the world's gentle malice, _

_He who can hear the whispers of the Forsaken;_

_For he has felt their pain, he has felt their tears,_

_And he will be there when they awaken._

_As the Chosen One will be there to save all from the Dark,_

_The Se'er will help us to see the Lark._

—_Sybil Trelawney_

ʘ§Đ

"Ahh! It's ladybird!"

"_Seriously,_ Theo_?" _Draco Malfoy shrieked as his friend jumped out of his seat and managed to knock a cup of pumpkin juice into his lap. "And these were my good trousers too," he moaned, grabbing a cloth from the little table beside him and began to dab at his lap. "Theo? Are you even listening to me?"

"I'm a bit busy here, if you hadn't noticed," the other boy said, dancing about, waving his arms around in the air franticly. He shrieked suddenly, "It's on me isn't it? It's on me!"

"Theodore, there is _nothing _in your hair—well other than a bit of dandruff—but other than that you're fine!"

"He's right—about there being no bug in your hair—not the dandruff part," Blaise spoke from his corner of the room. He thumbed his place in his book momentarily then gazed up at his friends.

"How do you know for sure?" Theo asked quietly. Blaise smirked and lifted his book to his face once again.

"Because it's in Draco's hair," came the slightly muffled reply.

"What?" Draco yelped, jumping out of his seat and swatting at his head, ruffling his hair in the process. "Get it out! Get it out!"

"I'll save you," Theodore said nobly and in turn began pawing through his friend's hair, searching desperately for the offender.

"Don't let it piss in my hair!" Draco whimpered pathetically somehow unable to hear Blaise snort into his book.

"Draco," Theo began, tugging lightly on his long platinum locks, tilting his head so they were looking eye-to-eye. "It may come as a bit of a shock when I tell you this, but I do believe that the ladybird has somehow burrowed into your head," he said in a dramatic whisper. Unfortunately his last words were unheard over the loud choking laughter from the corner of the room. Draco scowled darkly and shook off Theo's hands.

"You sodding _prick! _There never was a ladybird in my hair, was there?"

The darker boy shook his head, "Of _course_ _not _but you should of seen your face! Merlin I wish I had a camera; a moment like that is meant to be cherished forever," he finished, wiping his eyes on the edge of his sleeve. With a huff Draco flopped back into his chair.

"It's alright Draco," Theo began, "_I _don't think it's funny."

"Well you wouldn't" he muttered, rubbing his temples, "considering you're deathly afraid of bloody _ladybirds_."

"Hey!" the other boy protested.

"I seem to recall a certain blond screaming 'Don't let it piss on me! Don't let it piss on me!'" Blaise cut in.

"_Exactly!" _Theo shouted loudly, pointing an accusing finger at their irritated companion.

They lapsed into silence, having nothing to say after Theo's remark. Theo twiddled his thumbs and began tapping them together, eyes focused on nothing in particular. Soon growing bored of this he glanced upward seeing Blaise still entrapped in his book while Draco picked invisible lint off of his ruined trousers. He sighed loudly bringing the others' attention towards him.

"Is it time yet?" he asked. Blaise pulled out his pocket watch then nodded. Draco sighed but soon got out of his seat.

"Well let's go then," he said. Blaise closed his book shut with a _snap _and pulled himself out of his chair, accidentally smacking Theo in the back of the head when he got up.

The three of them strode through the long, elegant corridors of Malfoy Manor, their heels clicking on the stone floors softly. "Hogwarts soon," Blaise said, in attempt to fill the silence which was nowhere near awkward.

"I rather not," Draco muttered. Blaise raised an eyebrow, "It's because of Potter isn't it?" The blond visibly tensed.

"What _about _him?" he snarled.

"Nothing," Blaise said dropping the subject but bringing up another one instead. "I'm just wondering how you do it, that's all"

"Do what?" he asked exasperated.

"Fight with Potter, I mean seriously Draco, you _hate _fighting, and arguing for that matter."

"I do _not!" _he exclaimed. "I'm perfectly good at arguing! And I fight with Theo all the time!"

"Yeah, but Theo always wins, which is bad news for you because he's _Theo! _You can talk circles around Potter and the Gruesome Twosome but you can't win an argument against _Theo? _He's afraid of bloody _ladybirds _for goodness sake!"

"OI! Could you please lay off with the ladybirds? Draco's afraid of snakes and I don't see you bugging him about it, so leave me the fuck alone," he muttered crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Blaise waved him off with a hand.

"Draco, you're heartless around the people at school but at home and around us you're like . . . like . . . like a mouse! All timid and quiet."

"Stop it," Draco said softly. "We've been over this before, you know perfectly well that I won't answer you," he ended before speeding his strides to walk ahead of them.

Blaise and Theo rolled their eyes at each other before they sprinted to catch up with the irritated blond.

ʘ§Đ

Oh, how he hated them, he thought sourly as he heard them rushing off behind him, trying to catch up. A few well placed turns through unknown corridors made sure that they would no longer be able to follow him. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? No, they just had to keep pestering him about why he acted different around others. He didn't know! It was all so confusing. Whenever he argued with Potter it was like a mask or brick wall had been put into place. He was fully aware of what was going on, what he was saying; he just didn't have any control over it. It was almost like looking through a thick mist. He could never help it when it happened . . . maybe his potions were affecting him? He'd just have to ask Severus about it later. He stopped abruptly, wanting to smack himself in the forehead for being so stupid. Why was he _looking _for a house elf? He was a Malfoy; all he had to do was summon one.

"Itchy!" he hollered and with a loud _crack, _an ugly, wrinkled creature stood in front of him.

"Yes Master Draco?" it asked shifting from foot to foot, wringing its hands it the hideous piece of cloth it used as clothes.

"Has Severus arrived yet?" he said coolly.

"Yes Master Draco!" the elf squeaked. Draco sighed.

"And _where _is he?"

"He is in the study, Master Draco."

Draco felt his blood freeze. "I-is father in there?" he asked softly, hoping the elf didn't hear his stutter.

"Yes, sir," Itchy answered, distraught. He nodded.

"Very well, thank you Itchy, you may go."

Once the house elf had disappeared Draco brought his hand up to his face and rubbed at his temples. This wasn't good. It was almost as if Lucius did this to spite him. The older man knew when he had to take his medication—so he knew exactly when Draco would come up to find Severus and would be-little him when he arrived. He removed his hand from his head and took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the verbal on slaughter that was to come. With one more calming breath he turned on his heel and began walking to his father's study . . . why did it have to be on the other end of the Manor?

ʘ§Đ

"And the Dark Lord," Lucius began. "Has he asked of me yet?"

"No, Lucius," Snape said for the seventh time that hour.

"And you're sure?"

"Yes Lucius! I'm sure!"

"Forgive me if I'm persistent Severus, but I had to be sure you weren't lying to me."

"As if I'd lie to you Lucius, besides, what would I have to hide?"

"You're right, I'm just being paranoid."

"That's an understatement," Severus muttered darkly.

"What was that Se—?"

Both men turned when they heard the door click open.

"Sorry," Draco said softly. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?" He looked from Severus to Lucius.

"Of course not," Severus answered before the older Malfoy could say anything snide. In truth he was grateful for the arrival of the boy since it meant he could finally excuse himself from speaking with the elder Malfoy. "How time flew by! It's time for your medication, isn't it?" Draco nodded. "Well then, I'll be medicating you in your room today," Severus finished and reached to ruffle Draco's long hair, somehow missing the younger boy's blush.

Lucius frowned; Severus was never one to usually show affection. "Draco," the older Malfoy drawled. "Stay behind for a moment."

Severus noticed Draco's eyebrows knit together. "Yes, Father," he replied. Lucius frowned at his companion.

"Well carry on Severus; I need to speak with Draco alone. Doesn't it take you a while to prepare his medication anyway?"

"Yes Lucius, yes it does," he sighed darkly before he left the room.

Only once the door had clicked shut did Lucius turn to his son with stormy grey eyes. He raised his hand slowly taking pleasure at the sight of his son beginning to tremble slightly before slapping the boy across the top of his head, thankful that the hair would be able to hide the angry flush that was sure to blossom. He rested his hand on top of Draco's head and rubbed the boy's scalp softly.

"Draco," the older man hissed quietly. "What brought this about?" he said, indicating the boy's elbow length blond hair, which he had bound in a braid.

"I-I just wanted to look more like the Malfoy heir, every single one of them had long hair, even you," the boy whispered, eyes downcast.

"Well that I understand but why is it bound in such a way that makes you look like a bloody girl?" Lucius snarled, his fingers turning harsh and pulling at the boy's hair painfully. Draco whimpered pitifully.

"It gets in the way, Father. I don't want it to fall in any of my potions when I'm working with Professor Snape."

"Fine keep it that way. But if I hear a whisper from the other purebloods about how my poor excuse of a child looks like a fucking _girl_ then I swear that I will rip it out from the roots," the man growled, only letting go of the boy's hair after he heard a quiet "yes Father."

"Good, now go and find Severus for your potions, we wouldn't want you getting sick after all."

ʘ§Đ

"Of course Father," Draco mimicked to himself. "We wouldn't want me getting sick." He rubbed gingerly at his skull hating himself for the tears he felt prickling in the back of his eyes. Bugger! His father wasn't abusive per say. It was more an occasional hit or push here or there. Nothing _that _serious, although he did sometimes have a bad episode, usually after he had been publically embarrassed. Now that he thought about it, sometimes it felt almost as if he wasn't in his body during his father's dreadful tantrums. Yes he still knew exactly what was going on but it didn't hurt as much and it felt more like he was in a haze.

"Draco!"

He was pulled out of his thoughts when a loud and very eccentric Theo trotted down the hall. Seems like they had finally found him. "We've been looking all over for you, where in this entire house of Hell have you been?"

Blaise raised a sceptical eyebrow and exchanged a look with Draco. "Theo, dear," Draco began grimly, "how exactly did that make sense?"

Theo frowned. "I-uh guess it didn't. Since when did you get so mean?" he asked, squinting his eyes, trying to get a better look at the boy. "Holy shit," he whispered as his eyes widened in realisation.

"Daddy dearest hurt you again didn't he?" Blaise filled in.

"I've absolutely no idea what the two of you are going on about, but if you need me I'll be in my room."

"Oh no you don't," Blaise snapped grabbing the smaller boy's arm, pulling him back. "We're not stupid Draco! We know he beats you!" Wrong, Draco thought, Lucius only hit him sometimes. "He's a lunatic, Draco! What kind of father beats his kids?"

"What do you want me to say?" he spoke quietly, not raising his voice over a hush. "I'm fine with being hit once in a while, it's honestly not that bad; I'm fine with the name calling, as long as it builds character. But what I'm not fine with, Blaise," he snapped harshly ripping his arm out of the darker boy's grip. "Is you telling me what kind of man my father is"

With those words said, he nearly ran all the way to his room. Blaise sighed sadly at his friend's ignorance.

"You do realise," Theo began, startling Blaise, for he had remained silent for the past few moments. "That's the second time today that he ran away from us. What kind of friends are we Blaise that he can't even confide in us?"


	2. Chapter 2

Written in the Stars

"Draco."

He groaned in frustration. What was going on today? It seemed as if everyone was in on Wear-Out-Draco-Malfoy's-Name-Day. He looked up from the ground and was met with the intense gaze of one, Severus Snape. He swallowed dryly, feeling his face heat up. The Potions Master always had that affect on him.

"Yes Severus?" he asked meekly.

"You're late," was all the man said before leading him back to his room. Draco quickly picked up his pace in order to keep up with the man's long strides. He felt horrible, was it because of his lateness that Severus had to come and search for him? It'd be best if he didn't do anything else that displeased the older man.

"Please, slow down," Draco gasped, feeling his lungs seize.

He couldn't keep this up; Severus knew he'd been having problems with over exerting himself lately. After years and years of interbreeding in the Pureblood lines it had finally lead to their downfall. The Healers at St. Mungo's had concluded that even if a wizard had a bit of interbreeding in their family that went back to at least four generations it would lead to a genetic mutation which would eventually kill them. Oddly enough it seemed as if the fates had chosen Draco to be the only person in both the Malfoy and Black line to suffer from this predicament. It had started from birth of course, like most inherited diseases in the wizarding world do but he only began to show symptoms when he turned three. He had always had a fragile immune system and would easily get tired after any activity. Sometimes when he didn't take his medication he would wake up in the middle of the night coughing up blood. Lately though, it'd been getting worse, so bad that he had quit Quidditch. That hadn't made him happy at all, now that he barely had anything to go against Potter with.

By the time they reached his room, Draco felt as if someone had lit his lungs with Fiendfyre. Clutching his chest, Draco moved ever so slowly towards the bed until he just flat-out flopped onto it. He tried his best to even out his breathing and calm down. Not knowing what else to do he turned his head slightly, watching Severus' back as he quietly mixed more potions together, preparing his daily dose.

"It seems to be taking a turn for the worse, doesn't it?" Severus said his voice monotonous.

"Yeah."

"Have you been doing anything different lately?"

"No."

"Overexerting yourself?"

"Nope."

"Have you changed anything in your diet?"

"No."

"So, nothing out of the ordinary?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Draco repeated, moving his eyes to stare at the canopy of his bed.

"Here," Severus said, finally turning around. Draco sat up to see him holding a large smoking goblet. Instead of his usual murky-grey potion, today's was a dark navy-blue. Draco frowned.

"Why'd you add Mullein petals and…" he sniffed the potion lightly. "You added something else too. What did you put in it?" he demanded standing so he could put his hands firmly on his hips.

"It's just a bit of flavouring. Drink it Draco, it'll do you a lot of good."

"I don't believe you. And do you really think I would drink an unknown potion? What do you take me for, a fool?"

"Aren't you unnecessarily sharp today, hmm? Very well, as well as the Mullein petals I added dried Wormwood, Opium Poppy with half a root of Passion-flower." He answered. "As you know well enough the colour of the Passion-flower reacts with the Opium Poppy's chemical properties, thus the strange colour today."

"But why Severus?" Draco repeated. "Mullein I can understand, it boosts the immune system and we both know mine is shit compared to everyone else's, but the others?"

"Now, now Mr. Malfoy, I seem to recall you getting an O in Potions, why don't you remind me about what these plants do? My memory seems to be a bit rusty at the moment." He grinned like the sadistic bastard he was. Draco signed angrily, his eyes narrowing.

"Wormwood, is used to remove internal parasites; Opium Poppy, is used for pain relief; Passion-flower…are you suggesting I'm an insomniac?" he asked sternly. Severus chuckled softly.

"Draco, you're paler than a ghost, making it nearly impossible to _not _miss the black smudges you've got under your eyes. Besides I was once an insomniac myself, it takes one to know one." At this the boy scoffed at. "You know perfectly well why I added the Opium Poppy, considering you could barely get to your room without having a heart failure. You're in pain and you seem to have a hard time admitting it to me. I'm here to help you, but I can't do a thing, if you don't tell me what's wrong, understand?"

"You're only here because Father asked. Besides, he wouldn't want his only heir to die, considering his wife can't seem to bear any more of his spawn," Draco added bitterly, thinking about his mother.

"Draco," Severus sighed. "I'm here for _you_, not because of Lucius. In all honestly I couldn't give a damn about what that man wants." He raised his free hand and placed it gently on the young boy's forehead. Draco reddened at the contact, making Severus frown. "You seem flushed; I hope your body isn't reacting that badly to all the exertion. Here, take the potion," he ordered firmly, thrusting the cup into Draco's hands.

"It tastes awful!" he gagged, making the older man smirk.

"Of course it does. Have you ever had a potion that tasted like pumpkin juice?"

"Well, when you buy them they—"

"Do those potions ever work? No, I didn't think so" he said not even bothering to wait for an answer, already beginning to pack up his things. Draco placed the goblet back on his desk, near the Potion Master's other possessions. After that was done, he sat back down on the bed, looking down at his feet.

"Severus?" he asked softly. The man looked up from his task.

"Do you think I'll be cured?"

"Of course you will. Everything can be cured," he replied haughtily.

"Death can't," Draco countered.

"Well you're not dead are you?"

"I was destined to die from birth, Severus. It was practically written in the stars. I'm the only person in the entire wizarding world who is sick because of their idiotic ancestors' inbreeding!"

"You're not the only person in the _entire _wizarding world."

"In all of the UK then. I'm the only one in their health records with this disease. And it's a theory Severus! It's only a theory that this will happen to someone else! They don't care even care what happens to me!" Draco shouted, face flushing in anger.

"They do care, or else they wouldn't be trying to find a cure!" the older man argued reproachfully.

"What cure?" Draco asked softly. "They haven't even been bothered to come up with a name for this cursed illness…" he felt himself trailing off, finally feeling the full affects of the potion. He felt his eyes grow heavy and laid back, curling in on himself in his bed. Severus did not respond to his comments, knowing full well that the boy just wasn't up to it now, so instead he busied himself with clearing up his things. After a few minutes of silence in which Draco thought he was sure to fall asleep, the door flew open.

"Is everything alright?" a panting Theo gasped. "We heard shouting so we thought…"

"That you had finally gotten sick of Lucius' beatings and stood up for yourself," Blaise finished. He paused for a moment almost as if he was pondering something, his expression then turned to one of pain. "Shit, I'm sorry Draco, I didn't mean that," he said softly running a hand through his hair.

Draco chuckled softly. "No Blaise, its fine, I don't mind." He said wearily into the mattress. Blaise sighed softly and climbing onto the bed, facing Draco's back, Theo flopping back to face his front.

"You took your potions didn't you?" Blaise murmured untying his braid and then running a hand gently through his blond, silky tresses. "I'm sorry about saying there was a ladybird in your hair, that was mean."

"No, it wasn't. Besides, who am I to deny you your fun," he spoke, his voice heavy with exhaustion. He released a deep sign before nuzzling his face into Theo's shoulder. Theo's laughter shook the entire bed.

"Did Professor Snape add something more into your potion? You're a little more agreeable than I remember." He snickered, poking Draco between the eyes affectionately, laughing even louder when Draco raised a hand to swat away the offending finger.

"Stop that would you?" he demanded grumpily. Draco burrowed his head snugly against Theo's shoulder and threw an arm over the bigger boy's chest. "Mmm, Theo's nice and squishy, just like my pillow," he said, voice muffled from Theodore's shirt. It was all just too much for him. Blaise was gently rubbing his scalp; Theo just _had _to be all warm and cuddly. He needed some rest! It felt as if it had been weeks since he had had a good night's sleep.

"No problem Draco, I'll be—hey!" he exclaimed. "Are you calling me chubby? I am in no way—ouch!" he yelped, sending the death glare at Blaise, who had just kicked his shin, managing to avoid hitting their friend, who was curled up between them.

"He fell asleep moron!" the darker boy whispered angrily. Theo glanced down, taking in Draco's sombre face. It had been a while since they had seen their friends sleep so peacefully; not that they got to see him sleep very often, making this a once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity.

"I think I might catch a couple of Z's, with him," Theo whispered. He then raised an eyebrow challengingly. "Care to join us Blaise? If it isn't too childish for you to take a nap with your mates."

"As a matter of fact," Blaise began arrogantly, "I think I might." He finished, before throwing an arm around both of his mates and burrowing his nose in Draco's back.

None of them noticed Professor Snape leave the bedroom and shut the door securely, nor did they notice that in his sleep Draco held onto his friends as if they were his life lines.

ʘ§Đ

Draco awoke to the sound of deep rumbling. _Is it thundering outside? _He pondered to himself. It couldn't be, it was below zero outside so if there was rain it would just turn into snow. _You know, if you just opened your eyes you'd be able to figure it out, _the voice in his head grumbled. He moaned in protest, but finally concluded to open his eyes. There he was inches away from a face that was pale with freckles on its small nose. He was close enough to count the eyelashes on this face's eyelids. He let out a blood curling scream making all the occupants of his bed jolt upwards in surprise.

Both Theo and Blaise yelped in surprise, meeting each other's wide eyed gaze. After a couple of minutes of the three of them simply staring at each other, Theo flopped back on the bed and groaned into the pillow, angry that his nap had been disrupted.

"See Theo," Blaise began, voice heavy with sleep as he rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. "The reason that I never take naps with the two of you is that Draco always forgets where he is and who he's with when he wakes up. And let's not forget that you drool, Theodore," he added with a smirk on his face.

"I do not!" Theo protested. He pulled his face from his pillow, giving Blaise the Death Glare. "You snore!" he accused in return, crossing his arms in front of himself smugly.

"What did you just—?"

"OI!" Draco interrupted. "That's enough! Theo," he started, glaring at the boy disapprovingly. "Blaise doesn't snore. If he did, he would have kept us up, which he didn't. And Blaise," he continued, turning his upper half to face the other boy. "Theo doesn't drool—well he does, but only when he's dreaming about food."

"HEY!" Theo shouted in protest. He glared when they began to giggle and turned his back to them.

"Theo," Draco began. "Don't be like that. I was only joking." The boy didn't budge. "Theo! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! It was only a laugh. Theo please," Draco begged, feeling dread pool in his stomach.

"You two are always doing this to me. You're always teasing me, making fun of everything I do," he said quietly, his back still facing them. It was so unlike the vibrant, hyper boy they were so used to.

"Theo…" Blaise started, having no idea what to say. They watched silently as Theo's shoulders began to shake, and then his entire torso. The sobs (or tears for that matter) that they were expecting never came, instead the room filled with bright, loud laughter.

"I can't believe you guys fell for it!" he shrieked happily, bouncing on the bed. "You should have seen your faces! I swear it was the funniest thing I had ever seen in my entire life!"

"…Theo, you didn't see our faces, your back was towards us." Draco said, bursting the other boy's bubble.

"Well…I know what they'd look like," he responded, a happy grin splitting his face in two.

"You're an idiot, you know that, right Mr. Nott?" Blaise muttered.

"As a matter of fact I am fully aware of my idiocy, unlike you _Mr. Zabini._"

Draco smiled softly, ignoring both of his friends' bickering. Potter and his band of merry men seemed to be close, as most of the students at Hogwarts thought, but Draco knew that him, Blaise and Theo had bonds that were as strong as steel. Potter may have known his friends for six years, but Draco had known his since birth (well since they'd been four).

He thought grimly back to the time that he had asked Potter to be his friend. A part of him was crushed when the other boy had rejected him, but he knew, in truth that Potter would never have been a good friend to him. Theo and Blaise were able to relate with him, they were all born in a Pureblood line, they were all forced to do things they didn't want to. No, Draco thought sadly. He did not envy Potter for his friends—for he had better ones by far—but for his freedom.

He felt a sharp jab to the forehead and stared cross-eyed at Theo's finger. "What the hell Theodore!" he snapped, smacking away the finger. "How many bloody times do I have to tell you to keep that stupid appendage of yours away from me?"

"You can tell me to stop as many times as you wish, my dear Dragon. It depends on whether or not _I _wish to stop," he grinned sinisterly.

"You bastard! Who said you could call me Dragon?" he lunged for his friend, but got tangled in the sheets and ended up falling backwards into Blaise, while Theo got up as gracefully as only a Pureblood could.

"You need lessons in balance Draco," Blaise purred into his ear. Draco let out a very unmanly shriek.

"Get off me you pervert!" he screamed, struggling to get away.

"I seem to recall _you _lying on top of _me_," he laughed, making his friend struggle even more, but now with a prominent blush on his face.

"Are you two coming or what?"

They both looked up to see that Theo had somehow managed to get himself out of the bed and was now stretching out his limbs. Draco winced at the sound of popping joints.

"That's disgusting," he commented, making Theo pop his joints even louder.

"Let's _go_," Theo whined. "I'm hungry! I can't wait for the two of you to stop your snogging fest!"

"We are not snogging," Blaise hissed, but Draco saw the faint blush on his cheeks. Shaking his head wryly, he got out of the bed and cast a _Tempus_. Wow, it was already six; they had been asleep for about five hours.

"Let's go to the kitchen," he said, pulling Blaise out of the bed. "I bet you anything that Lala has already made something for us."

"Drake, now you're speaking my language," Theo said happily. _SMACK! _

"Don't call me that Theodore!"

ʘ§Đ

"So tell me again what you're taking Divination and Astronomy for," Blaise asked, picking at his food ever so slightly.

"Need something to do," Draco muttered.

"But you want to be a Healer," Theo said around his mouth full of chicken.

"I know that Theo, I just need something to do when I'm not studying to be a Medi-wizard."

"You could read, sleep or shag," Theo suggested. Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"I think I'll stick with my classes. Thanks though."

"Your loss," the other boy shrugged, taking another bite out of his food.

"Trelawney's a lunatic though," Blaise muttered.

Draco smiled softly; yes it was true that the Divination Professor was indeed a bit batty. But that didn't prove that she wasn't reliable. The woman actually knew what she was talking about—well at least she knew about what she believed in. It actually made the class more bearable that she was convincing when she spoke.

"They always say that the crazies are the ones who truly know what's going on with the world."

Blaise smiled softly at his friend. "You're a nutter Draco," making the other two laugh.

"You guys ready for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, finally getting back to Hogwarts, it's been a long Christmas break. I'm almost sad to see it go."

"I'm not," Draco whispered. "I hate this place." After a moment he added, "I hate Hogwarts too when I think about it."

"It's alright mate. One more year until you can leave or the Dark Lord could suddenly wreak havoc and destroy the world killing you in the process, thus putting you out of your misery," Theo said brightly.

"Like _that _would happen. We all know the Dark Lord is waiting before he makes a major attack. You know, keeping things on the down low. "

"How exactly do we know this Blaise?" Theo questioned. The darker boy shrank a little in his seat.

"It's only logical," he murmured.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Can we _please _talk about something else?"

"Like what?"

"Like how much better at Potions I am than Potter."


	3. Chapter 3

Written in the Stars

"Wake up!"

The person under the blankets grumbled in protest. Harry groaned in frustration.

"Ron, come on we've got to get ready or we'll miss the train!" his friend did not move. Harry smiled to himself, an idea fresh in his head. "I think I hear your mum coming up the stairs."

"Shit!" Ron yelped, jumping about a foot off the bed. He tripped on the sheets that had fallen to the ground and landed firmly on his bottom. "I'm up, I'm up," he murmured. Harry chuckled softly.

"Come on," he said, pulling his friend on his feet. "The train leaves in an hour, I'm surprised we haven't been yelled at yet."

Ron nodded and they both set off to grab their trunks and get dressed. When they had finally reached the kitchen of the Burrow they were both panting under the strain of carrying their luggage.

"I'm guessing you both slept in," Hermione said, looking up from the book she was reading. Ron smiled wryly, and then bent over to place a chaste kiss on his girlfriend's lips although it soon developed into a more heated one.

Harry grimaced, taking a seat at the table and trying his best to ignore the slurping noises that where coming from their direction. It was all well and dandy that his friends had finally declared their love for one another, and gotten together, but it really did get quite nauseating at times. Especially during meals. Even though they were too mushy and romantic with each other Harry couldn't help but be happy for them. _It must be nice, _he thought, _to have someone to rely on, someone to watch over. _It wasn't that he was jealous of them per say, sometimes; just _sometimes _he wished that he had something like that. He could do without the public displays of affection though.

"OI, Ronnie, would you _please _stop sucking face at the table, Harry looks like he's about to sick up on his kippers," Fred snapped, coming down the stairs. Ron and Hermione jerked away from each other, both turning rapidly red.

"Sorry about that mate," Ron muttered, avoiding his gaze while he took his seat. Harry exchanged a look with Fred, both grateful that the loving couple had stopped their snogging.

"Ron, you've got something on…" Hermione trailed off. She shuffled in her seat, then reached over to her boyfriend and wiped off some saliva off of his lower lip. She left her finger there for a moment as they continued gazing lovingly into each other's eyes.

Harry's expression soon turned sour, Fred turned green and then proceeded to make loud retching noises in hopes to get the other two to stop what they were doing. Hermione glared at the elder Weasley with such intensity that Harry just couldn't help but laugh at them.

They spent the next five minutes eating their food in silence. _Why is it quiet? _Harry wondered to himself. _Usually Fred and George can't keep their mouths shut, especially at the table. _

"Where's George?" Harry asked the other twin.

"The stupid bugger came down with the flu last night, threw up all over the carpet he did. Right now he's upstairs being taken care of by our dear Mummy."

"So that explains why your mum wasn't screaming at us to get down," he concluded.

"Too right you are Harry, both you and I know that she wouldn't have wanted to wake up her poor, sick Georgie," Fred added with a smirk.

"What are you all doing?" Mrs. Weasley's voice boomed from the top of the stairs, making Harry jump a foot out of his chair. "If you continue eating at that rate, you'll miss the train! Come on, get a move on!"

ʘ§Đ

Harry sighed in content as he unwrapped yet another Chocolate Frog from its wrapping. He was thankful for the warmth of the compartment and the company. Luna and Neville sat across from him talking happily about their Christmas break (Ron and Hermione had left fifteen minutes earlier for a Prefect meeting). Luna apparently had gone to the Himalayas with her father in search of the Red-Horned Yeti—unfortunately she had come back disappointed but the sights were worth the trip. Neville sadly spent his entire break with his Gran and distant relatives. There he was constantly reminded of how much he resembled his parents. Harry laughed when he told the story of how one of his uncles had gotten drunk and mistaken Gran for his wife.

"So how was the Burrow?" Luna asked in her dreamy voice.

"Nothing really out of the ordinary," Harry mumbled, mouth still filled with chocolate. "Some of the Order members decided to pop by, Ron nearly pissed himself when Moody began screaming about _constant vigilance!" _His friends laughed along with him.

"Harry?" Luna asked softly. "Are you gonna continue with the DA this year?"

"Yeah, are you Harry?" Neville joined in.

"Well, it depends on whether anyone wants to join again."

"Of course people will join if it's being led by the _Chosen One" _Luna added, never one to watch what she said. They lapsed into silence.

Harry shifted his gaze to the compartment's door. He really needed to stretch out a bit, he could feel his legs cramping. For having been underfed for eleven years of his life, Harry's growth spurt had finally come the summer before his sixth year; the summer right after he had been in the Department of Mysteries; the summer after he had lost his godfather. He didn't like thinking of those things; as a matter of fact Harry really didn't enjoy thinking about Voldemort at all at the moment. Not that he ever enjoyed thinking about Voldemort.

"Well I'm off for a walk—need to stretch," he said to both Luna and Neville, they nodded in response.

Harry shoved his empty hands into his pockets as he walked through the near-empty aisle. The Prefects meeting should have been over by now, yet he didn't see Ron not Hermione at all. They were probably snogging in an empty compartment or maybe even the girls' toilets. _Naw, _Harry thought, _too kinky for them. And they __**are **__both Prefects, so it's unlikely that they would be breaking a rule any time soon. _

He smiled slightly, but in truth Harry was actually quite annoyed with the two of them. Hermione seemed to be under the impression that Harry felt as if he was being excluded by them. She had approached him with Ron by her side once in the Burrow while he had been cutting onions (by hand of course). Hermione had mistaken his wet eyes from the onions to be tears that he was fighting back from being excluded by his friends. She then had spent an _entire half hour _explaining that even though she was dating Ron, she would still love him like a brother. It hadn't been her lecture that had pissed him off thus causing him to snap at them both. It had been Ron standing at her shoulder agreeing to every single word that came out of his girlfriend's mouth. They had known each other since first year for Merlin's sake, Ron should have known that he didn't need a "talk" about these sorts of things; he was sixteen for crying out loud.

The sound of a sliding door opening drew Harry out of his thoughts. A few metres in front of him and to the left emerged Malfoy and two of his cronies. To be honest the blond boy really didn't look well at all. He was trembling slightly with a thin sheen of sweat on his pale brow. Malfoy seemed to be ignoring whatever it was his friends were muttering frantically to him and focussed only on holding his hand to his face, coughing up a storm. Harry frowned, what was wrong with _him_?

Although he made no sound, Malfoy must have felt that someone was watching him for he looked up and locked his gaze with Harry's. They simply stood there for a mere second before the other boy burst into another fit of coughing, his cheeks flushing an angry red and his body shaking. Harry's eyes widened at the sight of blood seeping through the blond's fingers.

"Theo, take him to the toilets, I'm gonna search his bags for anything that could help," Zabini muttered, worry etched on his normally emotionless face. The other boy nodded before wrapping an arm around Malfoy's shoulders and steering him slowly to the toilets, leaving Harry standing there, shocked and just a little bit confused.

ʘ§Đ

_Shit, oh shit, _Draco thought, staring angrily at his reflection in the mirror. The day had just gone from bad to worse. First off he had been left at the station a whole _hour _early because Mother and Father had other business that needed tending to, so he had been left standing in the cold all by himself. He hadn't even eaten anything today because he had woken up nauseous. Then of course his "episode" had taken place. That wasn't the worst part—he had no problem with his friends being around whenever something like this occurred, as a matter of fact they could be quite helpful at times. _Potter_ had seenhim. He had bloody well seen him in a bout of weakness. If Potter chose to tell Weasley he would never hear the end of it. All he could hope for was that the other boy had enough pity for him to not say anything.

Finally pulling himself out of his thoughts he raised his blood stained hand to turn the tap on. After finding a temperature he assumed was adequate, Draco then proceeded to wash his hands and then his also blood stained lips. He felt like crap, absolute crap. Why he felt this way, he didn't know; he had taken his potions already and yet he had another outburst. Why was this happening to him? Did the world know he was destined to be an arse to Potter and this was his punishment? Or was it that he was paying for the sins of his parents? That made more sense to him, but could the world be so cruel?

He heard a quiet knock on the door and turned the handle to let Theo and Blaise into the cramped stall. They both looked exhausted, probably from the panic they had felt during his attack. Blaise held out his hand, handing a vial to Draco. He made a face, "that's for emergencies," he said through his teeth, not wanting to take another potion.

"Fuck, Draco. This _is _an emergency. I haven't seen you like this since _before _we knew you were sick."

"I don't want to take another potion," he said stubbornly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"You _will _drink this," the other boy demanded, voice hard as steel. Draco could practically feel the tension sizzling through the air. They were all on edge, wanting things done their own way.

"That one hurts though," he commented softly, eyes wandering to the wretched potion that he would inevitably have to take.

"Doesn't matter," Theo spoke up, his voice leaving no room for argument. With a sad sigh Draco took the vial out of his friend's hand and uncorked it. He hesitated for a moment, grimacing when its pungent odour wafted towards his nose. With one last scowl he tipped his head back, draining the vial of its contents. He made a face, feeling the familiar burn make its way down his throat and into his stomach.

"Now," Blaise began in a very businesslike voice, "since that's done we can go back to our compartment and get some food into you. You haven't eaten since last night and I'm pretty sure the potion subdues the nausea. You're lucky we saved you some," he added with a small smile.

Draco glared at his friend, wondering how he could go from completely serious to…light hearted. After all the years that Draco had known Blaise he had learned how to deal with his dramatic changes of character; he had learned to just _go with it. _

ʘ§Đ

_Tap, tap, tap, tap. _Draco narrowed his eyes in annoyance. The tapping had been going on for little more than a half-hour, making him wonder how the Professor hadn't noticed yet. It may have been due to the fact that they were sitting in the back of the class, or it could have been that Professor Lupin just wasn't annoyed by tapping quills. Just because the werewolf wasn't didn't mean that Draco had the same amount of patience. He shot his friend a dark glare promising pain if he continued his wretched tapping. It would have helped if Theo had been actually _facing _him to see the glare.

There they were in Defence Against the Dark Arts with Gryffindor doing bloody text book work. It seemed as if the werewolf's time of the month (Draco snickered) was approaching, making the man appear more haggard than usual. Lupin didn't look as if he had much strength to hold a hands-on class—with spells flying everywhere, never knowing where they'd end up—so he opted with very boring work instead. Granger seemed to be enjoying herself, Draco noted, watching her quill dash across the page continuously.

He glanced at his pocked watch, groaning mentally when he realised there was still twenty minutes left of class—well at least Theo had stopped that annoying tapping. _I should really get back to work, _he thought grimly, turning back to his paper. Unlike what many people thought of him, Draco wasn't exactly the brightest star in the sky, as a matter of fact he came in second, _second, _to Granger of all bloody people. If he _had _been the brightest star—which he wasn't (as his father had no problem saying)—he would have beaten Granger! But alas, he was absolute pants at Defence Against the Dark Arts; every other subject he had taken he had passed with flying colours (even in Care of Magical Creatures). That wasn't the worst part. What truly made his blood boil was the fact that Granger was pants at Defence too! And she was still getting top marks! How was that fair? Probably because she was a damn Gryffindor, little Miss Perfect. Sure she was ugly (in his eyes at least) but what she lacked in looks she made up in bloody intelligence. _Mustn't think of Granger. _

"Alright class, that's enough for today," Lupin called from the front. "What you haven't done in class will be homework and I _will _be checking it—no complaining Mr. Finnigan, unless of course you want me to assign more? No? I thought not."

The class sprung to life as everyone rushed out of their seats. Draco got up slowly, closing his book in the process and then began to shove his things into his bag, Theo and Blaise waiting patiently for him. They knew he was never happy after Defence; as a matter of fact he was quite a snarky bastard after the shitty class.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Lupin called. _Shit! _That meant he had to listen to the damn werewolf instead of going to his dorm room to mope about how much of a disappointment he was. "May I speak to you alone?" the Professor asked.

_Like I have a bloody choice, shit-head, _he thought angrily, and hoped that Lupin could read minds. With a heavy sigh, he motioned for Theo and Blaise to go without him. Draco grimaced softly then strode towards Lupin's desk. "Let's move to my office," his teacher said leading him to another room.

"Take a seat Mr. Malfoy," he said motioning to a chair facing his seat. Draco sat. "Now, there are a couple of things we need to discuss," he began, leaning his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together. On the inside Draco scowled, what terrible manners, if his father had _ever _caught him with his elbows on the table he would have gone a day without food.

"I hope that you're aware that you are currently failing this class. I'm not exactly the Head of your House but I am worried about you. If the career you're currently pursuing involves dealing with Dark magic you're going to have to find something else to do."

"If all you wanted to talk about was how I'm failing your class, then I think I'll leave, Professor," Draco said, rising from the chair.

"Sit down," Lupin interrupted. "That's not all I wanted to talk to you about. There _are _ways for you to bring your mark up." Draco sat back down, and full attention—he really needed this opportunity. "I've talked to Harry about reforming the DA, with people who wish to join as a club and for people who need the extra help for class."

Draco's eyes widened visibly. "You want me to join a group that thinks my House is scum?" he asked, outraged.

"They don't think Slytherin is—"

"Have you noticed how last year, there were no Slytherins in the DA?"

"That's because the majority of them where to pig-headed to join, and the minority was too afraid of what the majority would say or do to them."

"That's not true! No one joined because we would have been _killed _if we even asked where the meetings were being held. Believe me I know, I was the one listening to Theo bitch and moan about how he wasn't allowed to join because the other "shitty-Houses" wouldn't let him!" he screeched, an angry flush appearing on his face.

"Mr. Malfoy please watch your language and your tone," Lupin said quietly. "I'm afraid that there are no other options for you, if you want to pass this class."

"Fine!" Draco hollered, jumping out of his seat and waving his hands around in the air. "I'll join this shit-group of wanna-be-fuckin'-Aurors on _one _condition!" he added, pointing a finger directly between the older man's eyes.

"And what's that?" Lupin asked warily.

"I get to bring some Slytherins with me."


	4. Chapter 4

Written in the Stars

"You know the only people in the entire world who are able to make me feel like an idiot are the two of you," Blaise sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.

"So you have to join the DA?" Theo asked, ignoring the black boy's earlier comment.

"That's what Lupin said," Draco responded.

"That bitch," Theo muttered.

"Did you really just refer to Lupin as a female dog?" Blaise asked, snickering to himself.

"Yes I just did," Theo answered without batting an eye. "Honestly Blaise and you're the one always telling _me _to be polite, when in truth you are the one in need of some lessons in etiquette. Please don't interrupt again. Now where were we?" he said, turning back to Draco.

"You were calling Lupin a bitch," he answered.

"Oh yes. That bitch! He can't force you to do something you don't wanna do! He's basically signing your death warrant!" he exclaimed. "Isn't that illegal? For a teacher to do something like that?"

"Probably," Draco responding lazily, failing to notice the look on Blaise's face. "But I really need this grade Theo. I can't risk Father finding out that I'm failing the werewolf's—of all peoples—class. And that is why you're coming with me!"

"I'd love to!" Theo responded right when Blaise answered with a "Hell no!"

The two boys whirled around, having forgotten that Blaise had been sitting on one of the leather chairs, opposite to their couch. The scrambled off their seat and onto their knees at Blaise's feet. "Come on Blaise, please!" they begged. "No!"

"But why not?"

"We're walking into enemy territory. It's like you said Theo, we'd be signing our own death warrants!"

"This is _not _the time to be agreeing with Theo! We're part of the Slytherin Court—hell we _are _the Slytherin Court! We're not afraid of anything! Not snakes, ladybirds, heights, Dumbledore—and most defiantly not Potter and his minions!" Draco shouted.

"I'm still not going."

"Please Blaise!" Draco cried and wrapped himself around the other boy's leg. "You _can't _leave me there with Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and—and Theo!" Theo gave him a look. "Please Blaise!"

He sighed in exasperation and threw his hands in the air. "Fine! Fine! I'll go if it'll get you to stop slobbering on my robes!"

"Yay!" the two of them exclaimed, wrapping his legs up in a warm hug. Blaise smirked evilly, "I could really get used to you guys in this position." He patted their heads.

And with that said, the moment was ruined.

ʘ§Đ

_Magical Creatures are my friends, Magical Creatures do not secretly hate me; they do not thirst for my blood or hunger for my flesh either. _Draco chanted as he walked back up to the castle, clutching his book bag to his chest.

He _hated _Care of Magical Creatures. He simply hated it. The creatures were horrifying (and they all had at one point attempted to kill him), disgusting and downright ugly. The only reason he had taken the damn class was so he could bother Potter, who he had discovered had dropped the class! So now what was he to do? It was too late to drop the class and he didn't know what he would use to fill his time.

"Hey, Draco!"

He turned around and saw the shitty little Gryffindor Dennis Creevy run up to him. It was his own fault really for having the cretin besotted with him. Creepy's little brother, Dennis had been having a hard time at Potions and went to McGonagall for help…even though she taught Transfiguration. She had suggested he ask Professor Snape for assistance. The poor boy had started balling and saying that Snape scared the shit outta him…well he didn't use those _exact _words in front of McGonagall. So then the old hag had decided that _he, _Draco Malfoy would have to tutor the little brat. And that was the end of that.

"Hello Creevy," he said politely for some reason even he did not know. "And what brings you here on this fine day?" he grimaced at his tone and choice of words. He was being so damn polite he almost wanted to throw up.

"Look," Dennis said thrusting a piece of paper into his face. Draco frowned before his gaze was directed to the bright "O" written on the top of the paper in red ink.

"Holy shit! _You _got an "O"?" he yelled forgetting how he was supposed to behave in public.

"Yep! I've been doing so well lately that Snape thought I was cheating!" he exclaimed with glee.

"Fuck," Draco began. "And you're worse than Potter—no _Longbottom _at Potions. Apparently you've gotten better and you're a full two years behind them."

"Thanks Draco, that means a lot coming from you," he said practically glowing.

"Yeah, yeah, but in truth in only matters if _you _are proud of yourself. Shit now you've got me talking like a bloody Hufflepuff."

"And swearing like a bar man," Dennis muttered.

"What was that Creevy?"

"Nothing, nothing," he said quickly raising his hands in defence. "I just wanted to say thank you," he said enveloping the Slytherin in a lingering hug before Draco shoved him off.

Dennis smiled his innocent smile then turned and went on his way before anyone could notice the two mingling. Draco blushed when he noticed that the other boy was the same height as him. And Creevy was two years younger than him! He had no right to be the same height as Draco! Curse his grandmother for passing her short genes to him.

That was how Harry Potter found him; swearing under his breath on his way to Divination.

"Malfoy!"

"Yes, Potter?" he responded without slowing his stride or turning.

"Slow down would you?" Potter snapped. Draco sighed and stopped, thankful that Trelawney probably wouldn't notice if he was late.

"What do you want?" he asked, leaning against the wall.

"You're coming to the meeting tonight, right?" he asked.

"Not like I have much of a choice," Draco muttered in resentment.

"No need to be snarky Malfoy."

"Is there any actual reason that you're making me late for class?"

"You don't know where the meeting is."

"Well, Potter how prestigious of you to state the obvious."

Harry sighed in frustration. He opened his mouth, most likely to throw a barb of his own but shook his head as if he had changed his mind.

"I don't have time to argue with you. If you're coming tonight the meeting spot is the Room of Requirement, it's on the seventh floor. There's a hidden entrance opposite from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to dance. To get in you have to walk past it three times thinking of what you need, in this case it's the meeting for the DA, and the door will appear in front of you. You got that Malfoy, or is it too much for your ferret sized brain to process?"

"Very funny Potter, was Granger the one who helped you recite what you had to say?"

"Whatever Malfoy," he said before leaving. Draco smirked behind his back then grimaced before walking towards Divination, beginning to dread having to face the old bat up in the attic.

ʘ§Đ

"Shall we head to the dorms?" Blaise asked while they were finishing up their pudding.

"Why?" Theo asked mouth completely full.

"Just to have a rest before having to spend time with people we would rather not be around," he responded.

The three of them slowly got up off of their benches and headed out of the Great Hall. When they had finally reached the common room Draco and Theo both flopped down on the leather couch, while Blaise ever so gently sat himself down on his usual chair. They all sighed in relaxation.

"Hello, what's going on here?" a shrill voice said making them tense.

"Nothing Pansy, we're just sitting here." Draco responded voice strained.

"Are you sure about that? It looks like the lot of you are hiding something," she said, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"Of course we're not hiding anything," Theo spoke, unable to hide his fidgeting. "And if we _were _hiding something it wouldn't be anything like secretly joining the DA," he finished, quite confident that he had steered her onto another direction.

"You're joining the DA?" she asked, her face shining with shock. "Theo!" the other boys groaned.

"Are you guys kidding me? Joining the DA? That's suicide!"

"Don't think we didn't know that," Blaise muttered but Pansy continued to speak over him.

"Just wait until I tell the other Slytherins, if Harper found out he'd shit bricks," she went on, in delight. Draco's eyes widened, hearing her brash threat.

"Hey, Pans how 'bout you and me chat for a moment," he said nearly jumping out of his seat. He grabbed the girl…who was of height with him…around the shoulders and dragged her into a corner far away from anyone else, ignoring her protests.

"What the _hell _Draco?" she shrieked at him, throwing his hands off.

"Listen and listen good Parkinson," he snarled. "You will not, on any condition tell _anyone _about what we're gonna do."

"And what makes you think I'll do what you want?" she hissed back.

"You can't tell anyone if you're coming with us."

"I have no interest in joining an organization—if it can even be called that—that my House would kill me for."

"If you come with us, you'll be able to spend more time with Blaise."

She visibly froze making Draco smirk in success: he had her hooked. "W-what makes you think I want to spend more time with that idiot? I see him everyday don't I?"

"That you do, but both you and I know that you secretly harbour a crush on him."

"How the hell did you know that?" she whispered in mortification, confirming his suspicions.

"I'm the Slytherin Prince, Pansy, I know everything," he replied smoothly.

"So you'll guarantee me more time with Blaise if I keep silent and come to the DA?"

"Of course, the only Slytherins there would be the four of us therefore if you keep close to him the others would assume that the reason you two are together is because you want to be as far away from them as possible." He paused and inspected his nails for a moment. "Plus he could tutor you in Defence while we're there—you know, up close and personal," he whispered, enjoying Pansy's blush.

"Do we have an accord?" he asked holding out his hand. "We do," she said quietly and put her hand in his. As fast as lightning Draco pulled out his wand and cast a surprisingly quick spell on their clasped hands. Pansy's hair stood up on end for half a second as if she had been electrocuted. She jerked her hand out of his grasp with a hiss.

"What the hell was that for you bastard?" she asked in outrage.

"Just a little spell to ensure where your loyalties lie. If you try to tell anyone about us, even though you gave me your "word" all your hair will fall out," he added with a childish smile at her, his mirth doubled when he saw the look of pure horror on her face. "Cool, right?"

"Don't you trust me?"

"Pansy, I didn't get into Slytherin for trusting anyone who gives me their hand, I got in for being a ruddy bastard," his smile reappeared, only more malicious. "Now come along, I reckon it's time for us to be going."

Pansy followed obediently as he walked back to where his friends were. "Come on lads," he said and received bewildered looks at the appearance of Pansy. "Oh she's decided to join us."

"You sure she won't cause any trouble?" Blaise asked.

"Yes, I'm _certain._"

With not another word said the Slytherin quartet exited their common room and began their journey to the Room of Requirement. When they had reached the seventh floor Theo noticed that Draco was no longer on his left side. He whirled around to see him all the way at the top of the stairs, as if contemplating whether to escape.

"Draco?" he asked, making Blaise and Pansy—who had been walking in front of them—stop. "What are you doing?" he began walking towards his friend.

"I think I may have changed my mind."

"Your mind about what? Walking?"

"No you idiot! About going to the stupid remedial thingy!"

"You're having second thoughts?" Blaise asked in disbelief. "After you were the one who forced us all to come with you?"

"It's a bit overwhelming you know, there are gonna be tons of people there because it's Potter who's teaching it and—and I dunno, it'll be awkward."

"You're real funny Draco," Blaise said smiling from ear-to-ear, although his eyes showed that there was nothing funny about the situation at all.

ʘ§Đ

"No! No! Stop it!" Draco screamed as they pushed him down the hall. At first Blaise had tried to drag him along by his arms but he had simply become limp as a noodle, which had made him very difficult to drag. But then Theo got the idea to push him instead; Draco had dug his heels into the floor and hoped for the best, unfortunately both Theo and Blaise together could easily push him around.

"Stop! I rather fail Defence that be around the other Houses. I've done so much to all of them that they'd kill me!"

"Come on Draco stop being such a pansy," Pansy said to him. He glared at her. "Look who's talking!"

"Alright, fine," she smirked. "Stop acting like such a _Hufflepuff._"

Draco's eyes darkened, he pulled his heels from digging into the floor and walked his way to the girl. "Did you just call me a Hufflepuff?" he growled. "I am no Hufflepuff!"

"Really?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Then prove it"

"Alright, I will," he yelled before stomping over to where the entrance to the Room of Requirement, walking past it three times muttering something under his breath until a door appeared out of nowhere.

"Good job Draco!" Blaise said. "Finally you've done something productive today!"

"Excuse me? I seem to recall me being the one to get Pansy to shut her trap about this shindig."

"Merlin, Draco keep your mouth shut, they've already started."

The four Slytherins quietly entered the room and stood at the back to observe the goings on. There was a giant circle of students in the middle and it seemed as if everyone was shooting spells at something. Draco squinted.

"Are all they're using only defensive spells?" he asked quietly to no one in particular.

"They've got some offensive ones in there, but none that help in the long run," Blaise said, his voice lowered.

"Draco, how bad are you in order to need remedial classes from _these _people?" Pansy asked in disgust.

"I'm not bad at duelling, I know plenty of useful spells—" "—Dark spells—" Theo coughed into his hand. "Like I was saying," he continued over his friend, "I know how to fight, but when it comes to using defensive light spells or spells that have no harm behind them I'm shit."

"Yeah but we all know that with this up-coming war these kids have no chance against real Death Eaters," Theo said with a grim smile on his face.

Draco laughed.

ʘ§Đ

Harry smiled as he observed some of the younger students practice their wand work. Last year they had been forced to start this club because Umbridge couldn't—no, _wouldn't_—teach them anything they could use. It was nice to finally use the club for exactly what it was—a club. Harry noticed with a grimace that Malfoy and whoever he had wanted to bring, hadn't showed up yet.

After half an hour had passed Harry noticed that everyone had warmed up and grouped everyone into a giant circle in the middle, he then put their enchanted "Death Eater" who was really just a dummy, in the centre of the circle. He watched in satisfaction as everyone got a good solid hit. Everything had been going well until Harry heard a light laugh echo throughout the Room. And it appeared as if he wasn't the only one who had noticed. And after a couple of moments it seemed as if everyone was facing the back corner…where Malfoy and his companions were standing.

"What's so funny Malfoy?" Harry asked, feeling anger build up inside of him.

"Dead," Malfoy muttered before bursting into more hysterical laughter. "You'd all be dead"

"What the fuck are you going on about Malfoy?"

"I said Potter that if you lot ever faced off against real Death Eaters, you'd all be dead."

"And how would you know Malfoy? I seem to recall most of us fighting in the Department of Mysteries—not you."

"You're using standard defensive and offensive spells. None of which could cause any major damage." Zabini said.

"It worked just fine in the Ministry," Ginny commented hotly.

"They may have gotten you out alive but I doubt everyone managed to remain unscathed." Malfoy included

Harry watched as Ron pulled the sleeves to his robes down unconsciously, reminding Harry of the horror he had felt at the slight of those brain-things wrapping their ribbons around his best friend. This action—even though it was probably unnoticed by everyone in the room—just confirmed Malfoy's suspicions.

"You know nothing about fighting against Death Eaters," Ron bit out. Malfoy ignored him.

"Potter if you want to win the war you need to fight like your enemy does."

"I'm not going to kill and torture someone for no reason," he snapped.

"That's not what I meant. If you want to fight them, you need to be able to use spells that cause major damage," Malfoy concluded.

"How would you lot know?" Harry asked.

Draco scoffed. "Our families have a deep history in the Dark Arts; it's only natural that they teach us a thing or two. Everyone knows that, but apparently not you."

"Just _saying _that you can do something doesn't prove anything," Hermione snapped. Draco glared and opened his mouth to snap something in return.

"I propose we play a game," Nott spoke for the first time that night.

"Aren't we a little old for games?" Zacharias Smith scowled. Nott grinned like a hyena.

"You're never too old for this kind of fun! It'll be a mock battle, you lot against us."

"But that's not fair!" Hermione said. "We've got the advantage."

"Believe me you'll be grateful for that later," Theo interrupted hastily. "Anyways so—"

"No Dark spells!"

"I wasn't going to say that you stupid hag!" Theo screamed finally losing his patience.

"What did you call her?" Ron bellowed.

"Merlin, just chill out and let me explain!" he shouted. Once everyone had silenced Theo smiled pleasantly. "Alright so the teams are the DA against us four—"

"Actually I think I'll sit this one out," Parkinson interjected. Theo grimaced at being once again interrupted. 

"—us three. You'll be allowed to use any defensive any spells you want except the more high class ones—since you restricted us from the Dark ones. In replacement for those we will be using a spell that blasts out a powder that will stick to your clothing, regard: Pulvis Rutilus," he incanted pointing his wand at a second year. The boy grunted in shock as a red powder exploded on his chest. "Pulvis Rutilus will act as a stunning hex while Pulvis Crudus," he hit the first year yet again but now a bright green spread across his chest, "this will be the substitute for…the killing curse."

"They'll be no need for that," Harry spoke up. He didn't like the thought of even suggesting the killing curse, even if it was just a substitution. After what happened to Sirius he didn't want to think of things like that.

"Hear me out first Potter," Nott said dismissing the comment with a wave of his hand. "If you hit someone with the red powder it means they are only _temporarily _out of the game—a couple of minutes to be precise—if you hit someone with the green, they are then considered as 'dead,'" he made air quotes with his fingers. "As you can see the smarter option would be the green."

"I'm not sure," Hermione said, hesitantly. "It seems very unethical if you ask me, and as if it's encouraging Unforgivable spells."

"Granger," Draco began. "If real Death Eaters won't hold back from using the killing curse then we won't hold back from using this mockery…so are you goodie goodies in, or out?"

Hermione bit her lip and exchanged a look with Ron before glancing at Harry, who had been staring at the Slytherins the whole time. He didn't know what to do; he didn't want to expose the younger members to such hostility but they were in war-torn times, there was really no other option. He met Malfoy's gaze full on and said,

"We're in."


	5. Chapter 5

Written in the Stars

Draco's smile didn't quite reach his eyes, Blaise noticed. "Wonderful," he said in an uncharacteristic voice. "We'll just split up into our respected groups and come up with a strategy, yes?" he asked Potter who gave him a confused look in return.

"Um, sure?" Potter answered. The two stared at each other in silence before turning and moving towards opposite sides of the room. Draco sighed.

"So we need a plan," he began when they huddled close, well close enough without letting Pansy out of the loop.

"It's simple really," Blaise said. "Cut off the head of the snake and the body dies…or in this case the lion."

Draco laughed harshly, "First one to Potter wins."

"And the others have to wait on him hand and foot for a week?" Theo interjected.

"Of course," Blaise replied.

"I have an idea!" Pansy said from her seat. "How about the winner gets to wait on _me_ as a prize?"

Everyone gave her a blank look. "Honestly Pansy," Draco began. "Even _Theo _thinks that's a stupid idea."

"How would you know what Theo thinks?" she snapped.

"Because we share a brain—" he stopped abruptly. "Pansy?" he asked.

"What?" she huffed in return.

"Where did you get that stool?"

"I dunno, all I remember is wishing that there was something I could sit on, instead of having to stand."

"…You just wished for it," he murmured to himself. Draco's eyes wandered around the room, glancing at the shelves filled with items pertaining to fighting against the Dark Arts. _I need the fifth volume of How to Rid Yourself of House-hold Magical Pests, _he thought_. _And there out of nowhere the book appeared at his feet. Draco smiled, "Hey guys? I have an idea."

ʘ§Đ

"Do you have any strategic ideas?" Ron asked, imitating Malfoy.

"There's nothing much we can do Ron," Hermione said. "We just have to get them surrounded and hit them with Pulvis Crudus and then we win, that's pretty much it. Did everyone get that?" Everyone nodded in response.

"I have a bad feeling that we're underestimating them," Harry said quietly.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said. "What could we honestly be underestimating them for? Malfoy's the head of their lot and he's failing the class that this is based on. We're obviously going to win!" This was followed by a chorus of agreement from the other members.

"We'll let them have a bit more time to come up with a strategy, out of chivalry of course," Hermione insisted before picking up a book and resuming her place in it. Harry sighed, got up and decided to take a seat somewhere else, knowing that Hermione wasn't one to talk to when she was engrossed in a book and now that Ron was going out with her…he had a habit of trying his hardest to please his girlfriend.

"Hiya Harry!"

Harry looked up to see a different version of Colin Creevy looking down on him. "Can I sit here?" Dennis asked hopefully.

"Yeah—yeah sure, go ahead."

Dennis sat down with an eager smile reminding Harry of Colin. "Where's your brother by the way?" he asked.

"Oh, Colin's in the infirmary. Got tangled up by a plant in Herbology," he smiled softly. The two lapsed into silence for a moment. "Hey Harry?"

"Yeah Dennis?"

"Do you think it's smart to be fighting them?"

"They started it Dennis," Harry replied.

"Yeah but, the Sorting Hat says that we should all unite before the final battle. Even if they started it we shouldn't help fuel the fire."

"Look Dennis, I don't expect you to understand but if the enemy were simply offering a fight and they were at the disadvantage you've got to accept and then take them down." Angry at how the conversation had turned Harry got up to find somewhere else where he could sit—somewhere where there weren't annoying fourth years to talk to.

"Since when were they our enemy," Dennis muttered to himself. Both he and every other member failed to notice the mirrors appearing slowly on the ceiling of the Room.

"Alright!" Malfoy suddenly spoke up, clasping his hands together. "Shall we commence?" he asked, everyone stood from their seats, and those who had been leaning on the walls simply stood taller. "Will you do the honours of counting down for us, Granger?" he asked looking directly at Hermione. "Just to keep it fair," he added with a sneer.

"There's absolutely nothing fair about this 'game,'" Harry heard her mutter. "Actually," she began in a louder voice. "Why don't you let someone like…Nott do it?"

Nott's face lit like a sunrise while Malfoy made a strange expression. "Really?" Nott asked. Hermione nodded, slightly put off by his enthusiasm. "That's mighty nice of you Granger; I won't forget your kindness!" he grinned from ear-to-ear. "When I say 'one' we'll start okay? Does everyone understand?" he spoke loudly.

"Of course we understand we aren't stupid— unlike you!" someone called from the back. Nott it seemed had chosen to ignore them.

"Okay! I'm gonna start now!" he began. "25, 38, 52, 89, 87, 34, 65, 11," Malfoy covered his face with his hands in shame while Blaise and Pansy grimaced.

"What the hell is he doing?" Harry heard Ron whisper.

"I'm not exactly sure." He replied. "…44, 76, 21, 58, 17, 5…" Nott continued. "Seriously Hermione?" Harry asked. "You just _had _to let _him _be the one to say when!"

"Hate to say this love, but I'm with Harry on this one," Ron added.

"Well at least we know no one's going to get an unfair advantage," she responded with an uneasy smile.

"…97, 289, 198 234 521, 312, 1!"

Everyone had been so caught up in Nott's method of counting that it took them a while to figure out what was going on. By the time everyone had regained their senses the Slytherins had already put up a giant shield around them. The DA began to suddenly cast spells off at random. Hermione's mouth gaped open slightly.

"We shouldn't be just standing here!" she exclaimed before rushing to aid the other members. Harry and Ron stood for a moment, simply taking in everything that was going on.

"What d'you think they're doing?" Ron asked him.

"No idea." Harry muttered in response.

"Do they just plan on standing there with a shield up? That's not a very smart idea, someone's bound to break through, and then they'd just be screwed."

Harry nodded in agreement. What were they playing at? The Slytherins must have known that their current plan wasn't sure fire. In fact, like Ron said, it was just plain stupid. Some of the wisest students in all of Hogwarts took part in the DA. They were sure to think of _something _that would break through_. _And they said that Slytherins where supposed to be cunning and strategic—this battle was going to be over before Harry even casted a spell.

"Well I guess it's time for us to join the festivities," Harry joked, a grim smile on his face.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no," Ron began prodding Harry's chest with each 'no.' "_You're _not going _anywhere_. I'm the one who'll be helping out."

"What's the point in that?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Harry, you're like the King in chess, we keep you away from all the chaos to keep you safe," he exclaimed.

"I was never good at chess," he muttered. Ron flashed him a grin.

"Well lucky for you I am," he said before turning and heading towards the chaos.

Harry sighed, slightly relieved that Ron hadn't dragged him out there. He really wasn't in the mood to fight—ever since what happened at the Department of Mysteries. He ducked quickly as an ill-aimed spell—from his own team nevertheless—nearly hit him. Even though they were just minutes into the 'battle' the room was a mess. Spells where flying everywhere, people were panting due to the fact that no one could break through the shield, and Hermione's hair had grown in volume from irritation.

Harry slowly took a couple of steps backwards until his back was against the wall, hoping to relax for a bit. It happened so fast that he didn't even have time to draw his wand in defence.

The Slytherins had put the shield down for just a moment, and in that moment Malfoy had enough time to point his wand in the air and yell an enchantment before anyone of his teammates were hit.

"Deus Levis!" he shouted and the entire room was filled with light. The spell itself didn't look too powerful but Harry noticed that it reflected off of who-knows-what before blinding every single person in the DA. An eruption of groans echoed throughout the room before Harry felt something hit him in the chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Then suddenly the light was gone and he could see again. The first think he did see though was a bright green powder splattered on his chest and a very smug Draco Malfoy standing beside him.

"Shit Malfoy," Harry grunted, his chest aching from the impact of the spell. "You could have told us it hurts when you get hit."

Malfoy ignored him; instead turning to Zabini and Nott who were standing only metres in front of him. "I win," he said simply to his companions.

"You cheated," Hermione exclaimed, clutching her chest which was splattered with green. Draco raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"You used the Room. You willed for there to be mirrors on the ceiling so the light would reflect off of them thus blinding us," she said primly, Ron nodding behind her.

"You never said we could use the Room," Ginny glared.

"You never said we couldn't" Nott began. "I seem to recall you setting conditions as well as us. Would you expect Death Eaters to play fair? You _must _be delusional then," he added with an evil smirk. Harry frowned; gone was the boy who had nearly pissed himself in excitement at the aspect of being in charge of counting down, only to be replaced with a hard cynical youth.

"Well—"

"That's enough," Harry said softly. "What's done is done. So what if they won? We'll be sure to kick their arses next time," he reassured his team, receiving encouraging jeers from his mates.

Malfoy opened his mouth as if to say something but what emerged was most defiantly not a snarky comment. The sound he made while coughing into his small pale hands was not the sound a boy of 16 should be making; it was the sound that an old man—who had lived his life—made on his deathbed. The room was completely silent as Malfoy wheezed and hacked into his hands, everyone on edge wondering if he was gonna drop to the ground and die at any moment. When he spoke his voice was dry and brittle,

"Well I guess that's it. I'll see you next week," he said softly before scurrying out the door. Harry turned his attention to the other three: Zabini was helping Parkinson out of her seat and Nott was rocking on his heels with his lips pursed. He then noticed his friends gathering their belongings and mirrored their actions, picking up Malfoy's bag as well.

"Where are you lot going?" Harry heard Ron ask. Zabini raised an eyebrow.

"Draco's the one who needs this as a remedial. Without him here, there's no need for _us _to be here," he said. They then began to head to the doors not before Nott called over his shoulder,

"See ya next week Potty, hopefully we'll learn something then," he waved cheerily, making Harry grimace in annoyance.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, their faces etched with bewilderment.

"What just happened there?" Hermione asked.

"I have no idea. But if you're the one asking that question then I'm really worried," Ron answered. Harry shook his head before turning to the group.

"Why don't you all pair off and duel each other, we'll watch and if you need any help with anything just come and ask," he said, waving them off and turning to his friends.

"Shall we?" he asked, leading them to the three arm chairs that appeared at the back wall of the Room. They three of them sat down, releasing the breath they didn't know they were holding before Hermione spoke.

"I'll repeat, what just happened?" she asked once again, her eyes downcast.

"We had our arses handed to us," Harry replied, resting his elbows on his thighs with his hands clasped together under his chin.

"And by Slytherins nevertheless," Ron added, slumping into his chair.

"I know right?"

The three of them whirled around to see Ginny standing right beside Ron her nose poking firmly into the conversation—where it didn't belong.

"Oi!" Ron exclaimed. "Shoo," he added, flapping his hands at his sister. "No sisters allowed, this is clearly sixth year confidential information and last I heard you weren't in our year."

She huffed angrily before scouting around for a partner to dual with. The three sat in silence for a while.

"I really wasn't expecting that," Ron commented. They lapsed into silence once more.

"That shield charm was beyond anything I could ever imagine of doing," Hermione moaned.

"That can't happen again," Harry said firmly. "They just showed us how unprepared we would be in an actual battle."

"Exactly," Hermione added. "We could really use their help with the lessons. With them teaching us how to _attack _those prepared to use the Dark Arts, we'd also be teaching Malfoy how to defend against them."

"Come on Hermione," Ron whined. "We did just fine at the Ministry. We don't need a bunch of slimy snakes to help us."

"But it was just like they said Ron," Hermione said in frustration. "None of us got away unscathed, it was all just sheer _dumb luck!" _

"Alright fine!" he gave in. "They can help, but I'm not the one asking them to," he added. Hermione smiled warmly at her boyfriend.

"Of course you won't, Harry will."

Harry said nothing simply choosing to glare at her.

"Oh come on Harry!" she exclaimed. "Get over your childish feud and let them help us help everyone else. _You _may be able to fight against Voldemort without dying but we won't."

He sighed in exasperation. "Fine but if he starts anything—I won't hold back."

"Me neither!" Ron added.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "that's all I can expect from the two of you."

ʘ§Đ

Draco's lungs hurt—no correction, they fucking _burned. _He clutched his chest as he rushed through the hallways of Hogwarts, praying that he didn't fall down any staircases on his way to Severus' office. After what felt like hours he stumbled over the last steps that led to the dungeon and made his way to the Potions Master's private room. Not bothering to knock, he simply lurched inside.

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" Severus asked, looking up from the papers he was currently marking.

"No time for that," Draco gasped; now clutching the stitch that had appeared in his side. Snape, who had guessed the reason for Draco's visit, gracefully rose from his seat and began to search his selves for the boy's potion.

"For all you know I could have been with someone. And for Merlin's sake boy, sit down before you collapse—I am not going to be the one to carry you to the hospital wing if such happens."

Draco felt a wave of jealously flare amidst the pain at the thought of Severus _being _with someone. He quickly squashed the feeling, hoping that the older man didn't see the emotion in his eyes.

"As if Sev," he snorted lightly making Severus chuckle.

"Too true," Severus replied before handing Draco the appropriate vial which he quickly downed. He handed the bottle to Severus with a grimace, who in turn handed yet another vial to him.

"What's this?" Draco asked.

"You need to be more careful Draco," the older man began. "What if something happens and no one's around to help you? Ever thought about that?"

"I doubt that will happen," Draco responded leaning back on the seat, making himself comfortable.

"You never know," Severus said. "I may as well tell you since you're here. I need to double your dosage, so you'll have to go to the Infirmary in the mornings come here in the evenings."

Draco's face fell. The light-hearted atmosphere that was once in the room had vanished only to be replaced by a more grim one. All the hope that Draco had felt towards beating his illness—which was a small drop to start—completely vanished. By doubling his dosage, it meant that his body simply could not handle the strain of the illness, even with only one bottle of medication.

"I'm sorry Draco," Severus muttered patting the boy softly on the shoulder. In a normal situation he would have felt elated that Sev had touched him, but now…

"It's fine," Draco responded and pulled himself out of Snape's touch. "Usually when I come to you, I never expect good news."

"Now Draco don't be like—"

"Theo Nott has entered the room!" a loud obnoxious voice interrupted their quiet time. Draco whipped his head around seeing instantly that Theo had knocked the door open and was standing with Blaise and Pansy on either side. Upon seeing Pansy, who wasn't aware of his illness, he quickly stashed his emergency vial in his robes before she could get a decent look.

"You alright Draco?" she leered.

"Perfectly fine, Pansy my dear. Just have a bit of a sore throat is all."

"Are you sure?" she asked once again, batting her eye lashes in feigned curiosity. "I've never seen someone with a sore throat hackle like that. I honestly thought you were gonna cough your lungs out."

"Pansy," Blaise ground out. "If he says he's fine, he's fine. Leave him alone."

She huffed in response making the others smirk at her.

"Ah yes," Severus began, everyone's attention being diverted to him. "How did the meeting go?"

"We beat them" Draco answered simply. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"At what? Throwing insults?" he barked.

"No, at a battle," Theo corrected, quick to irritate.

"Merlin! You four participated in a battle against the entire club and _won_?" the Potions Master asked in awe.

"Three," Blaise corrected.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It was just the three of us—Pansy didn't want to help."

"Good job then, 30 points to Slytherin," he added with a smirk. The others beamed at him.

"It was so boring," Theo whined after a moment, "I mean we didn't learn anything."

"Theodore," Severus began, "you're there to support Draco not to learn anything," he chided.

"_There to support Draco,_" he mocked in response.

"1 point from Slytherin, for mocking your professor," Snape said without hesitation.

"_Theo_," Draco moaned. "We need every point we can get if we want to win the House Cup this year."

Pansy snorted loudly. "As if, McGonagall awards the Gryffindors points left, right and centre enough as it is—and she has the _gall _to say that she doesn't show favouritism."

Severus chuckled darkly. "You lot should head up to bed, tomorrow is a school day after all and I want none of you asleep in my class."

"Yes Professor," they chorused before making their way to the door.

"Oh and Draco?" he called before the boy could leave. "Don't forget about what we talked about. It's better to be safe than…well dead."


	6. Chapter 6

Written in the Stars

"Harry could you please at least _try _to focus?" Hermione asked irritably. "I'm trying to study and you constantly looking out the window is starting to bother me."

"Sorry Hermione," he murmured trying his hardest to concentrate on the essay he had to do.

After about half-an-hour of simply staring at his blank parchment Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. It was no use; he just couldn't seem to think today. There were too many things on his mind. He had homework to do, he had to plan for the DA (even though Ron and Hermione contributed he was the only one who actually knew what he was doing), Remus kept on asking him if he was okay—which he was!—and on top of that he couldn't get Draco fucking Malfoy out of his head.

There was something wrong with that boy, what, he didn't know. He just couldn't get the image of Malfoy hacking blood into his hands on the train out of his mind. Did something happen over break…or had it been going on for a while and Harry was so oblivious that he only noticed just now… Either way, he would get to the bottom of this—that is if he didn't end up killing Malfoy in DA.

He glanced over across the table to see if he could grab a peek at what Hermione was writing but found that there were two clasped hands in his way. Well that wasn't very nice, he thought. And then he heard a light moan. _Oh shit, _he thought. _They are not doing what I think they're doing…are they? _Harry asked himself but was too disturbed to actually look up and see.

"Um excuse me?" a small voice asked hesitantly. Harry turned ever so slightly wanting to avoid having to look at what his friends were probably doing, and was met with the sight of a first year girl. She was rather plain, with her hair tied in a French braid, he thought. "Y-you're H-Harry Potter right?" she stuttered he noted with a grimace, if only there was at least one person who didn't piss themselves at the thought of speaking to _the _Harry Potter.

Hiding his annoyance with a smile he replied, "Yeah, what can I do for you?"

"U-um I was told to give you this." She handed him a piece of neatly folded parchment in a trembling hand.

"Thank you." He smiled in appreciation taking it from her. She squealed in glee when his hand brushed hers before scampering off probably to tell her friends no doubt. Making sure that no one was around and thankful that Ron and Hermione were otherwise occupied he unfolded the parchment and began to read it.

_Why hello there Harry my boy,_

_How has the beginning of term been treating you? Not too hard I hope. But alas there isn't enough room on this parchment for me to engage in idle conversation. I would like for you to meet me in my office as soon as you can, there is something I wish to speak to you about. I do enjoy chocolate truffles you know._

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry raised his eyebrows in curiosity; what was so important that Dumbledore had to see him as soon as he was available? Usually the old man gave him a designated time in which he should arrive, but apparently not today. And so without any hesitation Harry began to pack away his things—grateful that Dumbledore had chosen to summon him now. Slinging his bag over his shoulder he strode out of the library, knowing full well that his friends wouldn't notice his absence.

"Chocolate truffles," he called when he reached the gargoyles that led to Dumbledore's office. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door, preparing himself for what was to come. "Enter." Harry opened the door slowly.

"Hello, Professor," he said.

"It's great to see you my boy," the Headmaster commented. "Do take a seat won't you?"

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Harry asked, sitting down.

"Yes, actually, I wanted to discuss something with you." The old man stood from his chair to grab a piece of parchment from the shelf above. "Here you are," he said handing it to Harry motioning for the young boy to read it.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. _

_Born to those who have thrice defied him;_

_Born as the seventh month dies,_

_And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,_

_But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not,_

_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives._

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._

_But there is another,_

_One whose blood runs freely on the marble floors of the Light man's Palace,_

_One whose screams are irrelevant to the world's gentle malice, _

_He who can hear the whispers of the Forsaken;_

_For he has felt their pain, he has felt their tears,_

_And he will be there when they awaken._

_As the Chosen One will be there to save all from the Dark,_

_The Se'er will help us to see the Lark._

"Sir..?" Harry asked.

"That Harry, is the exact replica of the Prophecy you heard in the Department of Mysteries a year ago."

"So you mean," he began grimly, "that the reason all those Death Eaters where there was for a poem?"

"You're too brash Harry. It more than a poem, it's a riddle."

"…A riddle?"

"Yes Harry a riddle." The Headmaster began to pace around the room leaving Harry seated, the bit of parchment still clasped in his hands.

"Note Harry, how the Prophecy speaks first of the Chosen One—that's you."

"Yeah I figured," Harry muttered under his breath. Dumbledore chose to ignore him.

"And then of the Dark Lord. But who, my dear boy, is this _Se'er_? This person whose blood runs on the marble floors of the Light man's Palace? Who is this Light man? And is he torturing this poor being for the benefit of the Light side—hence the name—or for reasons yet unknown? Who are these Forsaken? Do they mean us any harm? You see Harry, this Prophecy _is _just one giant riddle, and it will require great amounts of research and hard thinking to answer it."

_Hard thinking? _He thought. Hermione was good at thinking. She was good at researching too, and he and Ron weren't that bad at researching either when Hermione pushed them to it. They could solve this riddle, just like they had solved countless others. But there was the matter that he didn't have a copy of the Prophecy to look off of…he could nick it. There was nothing wrong with stealing was there? All right there was _a lot _wrong with stealing. So that was out of the question. But what if he made a replica of the replica? That could work, now he just had to make sure Dumbledore didn't see. Making sure the old man's back was to him, Harry stealthily pulled out his wand and cast a spell on the parchment, a replica appearing on his lap—which he shoved quickly into his robe.

"Harry, it would do us a lot of good if you kept this information to yourself. If any of Voldemort's followers accessed this, nothing good would come of it."

Harry felt the parchment burn in his robes. _Now, now, _he thought grimly to himself, _now's not the time to be feeling guilty. You have to do what you have to do. And if that includes going against what the Headmaster says then…we've broken rules ever since first year, why should now be any different? _

"Excuse me Professor?" he asked.

"Yes?" Dumbledore replied turning to face him.

"Did you only call me here to tell me something and then tell me not to tell anyone about it?"

Dumbledore chuckled merrily. "Of course not. While you mustn't tell anyone, I've got a bit of a job for you." Harry's eyes widened in anticipation. "I want you to look for anyone who could fit this description. We need to figure out what this _Se'er _is and what their role in the war is as well."

"But sir, I've no idea what to look for in this person," he protested. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Oh trust me Harry, you'll know. Now run along, I'm sure you've got some work to finish up. Have a good evening," the old man waved.

"You too, Professor," he mumbled in reply before rushing out of the office.

What. The. Hell. Was the man fucking _insane? _'You'll know' oh right—as if he would. He wasn't smart like Hermione, nor was he good at coming up with strategic plans like Ron. He was just Harry. And just Harry wasn't good enough for a task like this. Just Harry was only a boy who had been locked in a cupboard under the stairs for the majority of his childhood, he was just a boy who had been sheltered from the truth and who had to witness people he was close to die right before his eyes…

_Shiiit! _He thought angrily, rubbing at his prickling eyes. Now was not the time to be emotional, now was not the time to be _just Harry. _Now was the time to be Harry Potter because no one wanted to deal with…just Harry.

ʘ§Đ

Hermione was worried. She was worried about a lot of things actually, such as about he-who-must-not-be-named, her school work and of course maintaining a healthy relationship with Ron. But the thing—or person for that matter—that worried her most was Harry. Lately he had been so distant, almost as if his mind was in a completely different universe, while his body was stuck in this one—just mindlessly wandering around without purpose.

He was keeping too many emotions locked inside, she thought. The fact that his godfather had died just the previous summer didn't help much. She had tried to get him to open up, to get him to let out whatever it was that he kept bottled up inside—instead he had screamed at her to mind her own bloody business and then had avoided her for the rest of the week. Ron wasn't fairing any better with him either.

It also didn't help that right now, well…they had lost Harry. She had turned around for just a second to give Ron a kiss—she blushed at the memory—for starting a proper thesis for his Potions essay, once they had parted she had noticed that Harry, and his things were nowhere to be found. It wasn't her fault that she and Ron were now in a relationship! They didn't _mean _to do things without him…it was just that…well—it was hard doing romantic things while your best friend glared daggers down your neck. Hermione sighed in exasperation.

Just as she was about to say something to Ron, who had pulled out his chess set in boredom and had begun to play against himself, a very anxious looking Harry rounded over the corner. His cheeks were slightly red, probably due to running from where-ever he had been.

"Hi, how are you?" he began is a rushed voice, "good? Great. I see you've stopped snogging," the two of them blushed, "that's great. So I need some help, you wanna help me? Of course you wanna help me!" he ended speaking faster than the speed of light. He buried his hand in his robe and soon pulled out a piece of parchment, tossing it onto the desk. Ron grasped it into his hand and slowly began to unfold it.

"Oh—by the way, Dumbledore doesn't really know we have this, so we're breaking plenty of rules right now," Harry added.

Ron snorted, "Since when _aren't _we breaking any rules?"

ʘ§Đ

"Well it seems as if you were right Severus," Dumbledore murmured. "He did tell his friends about it, he even managed to make a copy assuming I would not notice. I guess I owe you a lemon drop."

"I wasn't aware that we were betting," the sour man drawled with a grimace.

"Please do not stray off topic Severus," Dumbledore said. "We're here to talk about the Prophecy and Harry."

Severus scowled, this man was a lunatic, but he was also one of the most powerful wizards in this age so…he really couldn't say anything about his lunacy. _Lunacy, _he thought, _luna-cy. _Well, that sounded a lot like Luna. Lovegood. He shuddered; the similarities between the young Ravenclaw and the Headmaster were almost uncanny. No, no, he needed to focus! This was an important issue.

"What do you think this means Severus?"

"Pardon?" he asked, slightly embarrassed that he hadn't been paying attention.

"Everything had always been between Mr. Potter and Voldemort. Every time they have encountered each other it had only been the two of them. Why now, do we find out that there is a third person involved with this?"

"There always is a third party in any disagreement," the Potions Master commented.

"This isn't a witty argument, it's a war, please remember that Severus." Snape rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Headmaster," Snape began, rising from his chair. "Things happen for a reason. This new person may either be an asset to us or not. Hell they might not even be participating in the war, they could have just been mentioned in passing. So please do not dwell too much on it. I have some assignments to mark, if you'll excuse me," he ended before exiting the old man's office.

"I wish you were right Severus," Dumbledore said softly as the door clicked shut, "I'm afraid that this person will have a key role in this war, and it would be best if they were on our side."

ʘ§Đ

"Are you shitting me Potter? Is that the best you've got?" Malfoy screeched smugly as Harry was yet again thrown across the room from a very powerful spell. They were once again in the DA and well…Harry was getting his arse kicked. Again. Harry sighed in defeat and made no move to get up, grateful that everyone else was otherwise occupied so no one could see him in his embarrassment. Whatever had been wrong with Malfoy last week must have cleared up drastically.

Harry heard a dull thud beside him. Then, a soft snicker. "I usually wouldn't bother to ask," Malfoy began. "But what seems to be the problem _this _time?"

"Excuse me? What the hell do you mean by _this time?" _Harry snapped from his position on the floor.

"Oh please Potter. Don't act as if it's not written all over your face, whenever you've got something on your mind. Snape's given you a detention, you're little girlfriend is putting out; you've had an argument with the Weasel. Whatever it is, anyone can see it."

Harry jerked upwards with a start. "I do _not _have a girlfriend," he snarled. Malfoy chuckled lightly.

"Was that the only thing you retained from what I told you?"

"No, I don't always express myself on my face."

"Yes you do Potter," Malfoy said, shifting himself so they were looking face to face. "And it's emotions like that, that allow me to manipulate you and beat you in every dual."

"That's not true! The only reason you win is because you cheat and use Dark Magic, it's not even Defence!"

Malfoy smirked softly. "The only people you'd have to dual _will _cheat and the only magic they'll use will be dark."

"One day Malfoy, I'll knock you on your arse."

"Find a spell Potter. Find a spell strong enough to beat my Dark Magic and you'll finally win. Now come on, you still need to teach me how to cast a proper defensive spell."

"Whatever Malfoy," Harry replied, slowly pulling himself up.

"You need to brush up on your insults Potter, saying whatever and then my name is starting to get old."

The rest of the meeting went off without a hitch, if you call Harry nearly strangling the blond Slytherin fine. The smaller boy was just so damn irritating, Harry fumed. He didn't know what he was talking about. He was pretty sure that he didn't wear his emotions on his face, if he did then Ron or Hermione would have confronted him about it. It irked him that Malfoy of all people noticed this.

Harry shook his head, he had other things to worry about. Like the Prophecy. They hadn't had much time to look at it, or analyze it, he noted sadly. There just didn't seem to be enough time at all, with school work and when Voldemort would next attack on their minds. Well, he thought. The Easter Holidays were coming up soon. That should give the three of them enough time to look for any possible leads on what the Prophecy meant. He really hoped they would gain at least _some _understanding on the topic. He rather be informed of his destiny instead of having it thrust upon him. That was never fun…especially when he was thrust into situations where someone ended up dead.

He rubbed his temples; too much thinking for his small brain. Harry groaned loudly, coming to a realisation. He still hadn't finished his assignment, and it was due tomorrow! With a glum expression he reached for his bag and dug around looking for the dreaded assignment. He stared at it for what seemed like hours. Harry just didn't know what to write. If only Hermione was here, and not on her late-night escapade with Ron, then maybe he could copy off her work. He _really _needed help. Why couldn't Snape be a reasonable teacher? One who all the students went to for help? Harry chuckled grimly, as if that was ever going to happen. _No,_ he thought, _I don't need a greasy old man breathing down my neck for help…I need a book. A book that's easy to read and well just—understandable. _He chuckled once again; finding a book like that was just as unlikely as Snape becoming likeable. The Wizarding world was a complex place…with a lot of complex books.

After what had felt like a year, Harry had finally finished his assignment. It was botched and very illegible but at least it was completed. With a final sigh he trudged upstairs to the boys' dorm and flopped onto bed. He really couldn't wait until the Easter Holidays.


	7. Chapter 7

Written in the Stars

To say that Draco was dreading the Easter Holidays was an understatement. Going home just meant that he had to spend time with his father…and that was never pleasant. Well at least he was usually allowed to invite Theo and Blaise over. He gazed up from his book looking across the compartment to see Blaise kicking a very confused Theo's arse in chess.

Theo, feeling eyes on him, looked up and smiled at Draco in silence. Draco's heart fluttered and he mentally cursed the light blush dawning on his face. The tiny insignificant crush that Draco had for Severus had evaporated the moment Theo had told him about his recent sexual escapade. The jealously that had engulfed him was not the fact that Theo had had a one night stand but the fact that someone had been with Theo! Draco sighed in exasperation; he truly was fickle, jumping from one interest to another. He laughed softly; next thing you know he'd be falling in love with a Weasley! Oh, the horror….Speaking of interests.

"Blaise?" he asked softly.

"Yeah?" the other boy asked, not looking up from the game.

"What do you think about Pansy?"

"Annoying," was all he said in reply. He squinted his eyes before moving his Bishop and successfully taking Theo's Queen.

"…I know you like her Blaise." Draco said.

"E-excuse me?" Blaise stuttered in outrage, knocking the chess board off the seat in shock.

"Oh please Blaise, everyone can see it when you look at her," he continued.

"Excuse me?"

"Your eyes glaze over, you cheeks get flushed—"

"Are we talking about the same Pansy Parkinson here?"

"Yes Blaise, I believe we are," Draco said frankly.

"Are you sure? Because I'm thinking of Pug-face Parkinson, in case you're wondering."

Draco glared at him. "I don't like her," Blaise clarified.

"Why not?" Draco pouted, folding his arms across his chest.

"It'd be as strange as you liking Potter, I don't know why—I just don't."

As quickly as the conversation had started, it had ended. The two boys had cleaned up the fallen chess pieces, Theo boasting that because Blaise had knocked the board he had lost. Blaise scowled at Theo who flopped into the seat next to Draco, flinging an arm over his shoulders.

"So Drake, my beautiful Dragon," he began, "Have you ticked off any recent conquests on your bedpost?"

Draco felt his face light up like a bulb. Damn Theo and his bluntness. "No." he muttered curtly, trying to wriggle himself out of Theo's grasp.

"Come on, no need to be shy," Blaise butted in, a smirk on his face; getting back at him for the whole Pansy problem.

"No, seriously, there's no one."

"You've got to be kidding!" Theo hollered, moving his arm off of his shoulders, to wrap his hands around his biceps instead, shaking him in the process. "But you're like sex on legs!"Draco blushed even deeper.

"Shut your mouth," he sneered, very uncomfortable with the way this was going. "You're both purebloods aren't you? We've been raised not to speak of these things in public. And not to mention we've also been raised to save ourselves until marriage." he shook himself out of Theo's grasp and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Come on Draco," Theo began. "Most of the rules in the old books are just guidelines. You don't really expect them to be followed. Do you think your parents stayed chaste until marriage?"

"Well we aren't talking about my parents!" Draco snapped, eyes flashing in fury at the mere mention of them. "We're talking about me!"

"You're making a mountain out of a mole hill, Drake," Blaise interrupted. "The chances of you not having sex before marriage are low. The Dark Lord will have taken over pretty soon and by then we'll all be dead. Do you really wanna die a virgin Draco?"

"Of course not but it's not even about being married anymore! You guys are just simply giving yourselves to people who don't think you're worth a damn. Wouldn't you rather give yourself to someone you at least love? Or limit yourself to one person, instead of one per night?" he asked pleadingly.

"Well, now since I've had all this experience, I'll know how to please the one I fall in love with," Theo bit back, staring him right in the eye.

And that, was the moment that Draco realised that there was no way he could win this argument.

"Look Draco," Blaise said. "We want to enjoy life as much as possible and well…having sex is a great way to. It helps to relieve stress, a good cure for boredom—"

"And it's great for the skin!" Theo barged in.

"The marriage part isn't that big of a deal to me—I mean it _would _be nice—but I could only do it, if I was absolutely in love with the person." Draco said stubbornly. Before the other boys could even respond to that, the train came to a screeching halt.

"Looks like we're here."

The three boys quickly grabbed all of their items and made their way to the platform, where Draco could see his father standing. He gave his friends a disgruntled look, earning ones of sympathy, and hugs from the two of them. With one last wave, Draco made his way to Lucius.

"Father," he said in greeting, noting his father's fine robes, which were clearly not suited for picking someone up at the station.

"Draco, how many times must I remind you that Malfoy's do not hug, especially with other men." He scowled at his spitting image.

"Forgive me Father for it will not happen again."

"Very well, let's get going then," he said, offering his arm to Draco.

To any other person the look on Lucius Malfoy's face was indifferent, displaying no emotion whatsoever. But to Draco, who had known this man for all his life knew that he was taking great pains offering his shit excuse of a son his arm. But alas, Draco had come acquainted with that look since a long time ago, and learned that it would never change. So he simply took the arm without thought, and felt the familiar pull of Apparation.

He stumbled into the foyer, Lucius giving him a look at how ungraceful his landing was.

"Narcissa!" Lucius barked. "I'm back, it's time to go!"

Draco frowned, wondering what he was talking about, but was soon pulled out of his thoughts when his mother practically _floated _down the large staircase, wearing a gown made of a dark blue fabric that moved like liquid and glittered like a sky filled with stars. A diamond necklace adorned her neck; her golden hair flowing down over her shoulders, some locks curling at her collar bone.

_Bitch, _Draco thought cruelly. His father's head whirled 'round to face him, almost as if he had heard what Draco had thought.

"Draco," he began briskly, taking his mother's hand and helping her down the last steps. "Your mother and I have been invited to a Ministry gathering. We won't be back until late." And with those final words they had Apparated away.

"Looks like tonight, its dinner for one," Draco murmured to himself. With a final glance at where the two of them had been standing he made his way to the kitchens.

ʘ§Đ

After a dinner of complete silence, Draco had wondered off to the library, for something to do. He picked up the first book he found; it was old, bound by worn out brown leather with the golden title _Out of the Shadows_ scrawled on the front. He flipped to the first page and was greeted with the smell of dust and a yellow age-stained page, dedicating the book to someone named Terrence Ravenshaw. Strange name, Draco thought, with a light smirk on his face, before he exited the library and made his way to his room, so he could read in comfort.

_Please oh please let this not be a factual book, _he chanted over and over again. The last thing he needed was to be all warm and snuggled into bed and finding that he had taken a book about the Goblin Wars or even worse…pureblood etiquette. The thing he hated about wizard books was that there was no summary that you could read in advance. Well, he thought. It didn't _really _matter if the book turned out to be one of those stuffy old ones, he'd just go straight to sleep if it proved to be boring—and if it didn't, well, he'd just have to read it.

Finally making it to his room, he quickly donned a nightgown (yes, he still wore nightgowns—it was only proper for purebloods to do so, his father had told his as much…then again he never had seen his father wear one himself), and crawled into bed with a relaxed sigh. He picked the book off of his nightstand and began to read.

It turned out to be a rather depressing novel actually, the farther he got into it. It was about a boy, a boy who had never known love, a boy whose mother had been raped, forcing her to conceive him. And so he grew up alone, his mother loathing his very existence. Every day she would take him to the park down the street, he swung on his lonesome and his mother never offering any assistance instead she sat on the bench smoking a fag, while the other parents would gossip about her. And the boy always heard them. Some days she would simply leave him there and return later to pick him up once the sun had begun to set, and it was on those days when he heard the things they said about her.

They said she was an art major, a gifted child who was going places, until that unfaithful day when she had been pulled into an alleyway and raped. Her parents were against aborting the baby, so she had been forced to carry the child of the man she wanted dead. He had heard that since the moment she had held him in her arms, she had felt no motherly connection. But who would have felt a connection with a child like him? He heard them say. For he was a demon child, a child who could make people hurt when he was angry at them, a child who could see things that were not there, and a child who had once fallen out of a tree but had gotten up unscathed.

He had remembered one day that a neighbour's child had approached him and said that he was a freak, an abomination that did not deserve to inhabit the world. He had simply tilted his head to the left and pursed his lips ever so slightly, knowing that these where in fact not the child's words, but his parents'. So what if he had wished this child a little ill, it wasn't intentional! But that was when he was pulled out of his thoughts by a scream and had realised that the other boy's arm had broken. No one ever spoke to him after that, not the mailman, or the milkman, or Mrs. Dickens, who often came over to check on his mother. He had expected his mother to beat him once the news had reached her ears but instead she simply said 'what else can I expect from a bastard child like you?' She hadn't mentioned the incident ever again, and when the man whose son he had damaged had snarled at her to keep a better grip on her demon child she had simply repeated what she had said to him. That was the first time he had ever thought that his mother had actually cared about him; but it had turned out that he was indeed wrong.

It had been like any ordinary day, he had woken up to the smell of fresh coffee and a freshly lit fag. Later on that day his mother had dropped him off at the park…and never came back. So he waited there for three days, simply swaying back and forth on the swing, feet hovering off the ground, waiting for his mother to return. On the third day of him swinging, his stomach aching with hunger, his tongue parched, a man had approached him. It had taken him a while to recognize the man, but he had finally realised that it was Mr. Dennis, the man who was known for his great hate for the neighbours. Of course the boy had no personal qualms against him, for they had never spoken. 'Your mother,' he had said. 'She's dead.' He looked up at the older man. 'Excuse me?' 'You heard me boy, she's dead; bitch couldn't handle the so called fucking "stress" of taking care of a child so she offed herself.' 'Excuse me?' he asked again, the information just not going in. The man sighed and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, obviously frustrated. 'I've got a spare bed in my house, you're free to take it if you wish,' he finished, holding his hand out to the boy. He took it and was pulled out of the swing gently, and at that moment the boy wondered if it would finally get better. It did not.

Draco pulled himself out of the book at the end of the chapter, wiping away a stray tear. This book was just so sad. That poor boy was all he thought about as he placed a book mark at the spot he was at and put the book on his nightstand. _Oh shit! _He thought suddenly and stumbled out of bed to his desk. He had almost forgotten to take his potion. Sure he felt fine now, but in a couple of hours he would be curled up in absolute pain. After that was done he jumped back in bed, laughing at the outrageous poof of his gown and burrowed himself deep within the covers.

ʘ§Đ

To say he was dreaming well was an absolute lie. He wasn't dreaming in fact, but reliving one of his worst memories.

_Being seven years old certainly had its draw backs. He wasn't allowed to stay up late, he wasn't allowed to attend most of his parents late night parties and he couldn't even reach the top of the dining room table. _

_He walked through the corridors of the manor, having no idea where his Mother was—his father was visiting with the Minister. "Mum?" he asked softly. No one responded. The air was tense; he could feel that something was wrong. And it was only confirmed once he had approached the parlour. It seemed as if all the house elves had gathered around together. _

"_Um, excuse me?" he asked politely. An elf turned towards him, pulling at its ears._

"_Young Master, you best leave. Dobby no want you to see Mistress after a fit."_

"_She's had a fit?" he asked in shock. "Is she alright now? I know father isn't here so there's no one to really take care of her but I could help." He said helpfully._

"_No Master Draco, 'tis best if you not visit the Mistress, quite yet." _

"_Oh piss posh," he said in frustration. "She's my own mother, I can visit her whenever I like!"_

_And just like that he pushed past all of the elves and made his way inside. The parlour was a rather well designed room; it was circular, held up were a couple of swords and knives on the wall in decoration. In the centre of the room, sat his mother, looking very composed if he said so himself._

"_Mum?" he asked hesitantly and approached her slowly. "Is everything alright?" _

"_Ah, Draco, everything is fine." She said although she didn't rise from her chair. "Why don't you work on your penmanship." Draco said nothing in return but moved to the table, his back to his mother. It wasn't until he had gone through the alphabet twice that he had finally heard the soft sobs behind him. _

"_Mum?" he asked again, getting out of his seat he crawled over to her feet and placed a hand on her knee. "Mum what's wrong?" she only sobbed louder. "Mum what's wrong?" he repeated, his voice cracked and he felt the familiar sting of tears in his eyes. It hurt to see his mother cry. _

"_You—you—you…" she muttered._

"_What? What did I do Mum? I'm so sorry! Please stop crying!"_

"_It's all your fault!" she wailed._

"_I'm sorry!" he cried in response. After what had felt like hours his mother had finally quieted. He raised his head and was shocked when his eyes met her enraged ones. "You were supposed to be a little angle Draco," she hissed. "Not the little conniving snake you are now. You whine too much, you cry too much. Why can't you just take care of yourself!" she shouted at him. _

_Draco's lips quivered, fresh tears shining in his eyes. Narcissa scowled and raised from her chair, looking down at him. "There you go again snivelling like a baby," she spat and shoved him away. _

_He could hear her muttering something to herself, but what exactly, he did not know. He just kept his head tilted down, feeling his tears streak down his face and onto the floor. Before he knew what was happening he found himself being pushed onto his back and his mother straddled his legs so he could not move. In her hands she held a bright hunting knife, hoisted over her head. _

"_This ought to do you in," she murmured, her eyes were filled with madness, hate and disgust all aimed towards him. As fast as lightning she brought it down and slashed from one hip to the other, slicing his abdomen. Draco screeched in pain, and clutched his belly. His mother slid off of him, letting the knife clatter to the floor. _

"_Finally, it's done," she exclaimed in joy, clasping her blood stained hands together. She crawled backwards so she could lean on the wall and wrapped her arms around her legs. It took her a while to notice the screaming. She frowned at the boy. He was starting to frighten her, so in an attempt to comfort herself she began to hum a familiar tune. _

_**Oh Merlin it hurts so much! **__Draco wailed, feeling the uncomfortable hot pain pulse and throb at his stomach. He wanted it to end right now! He felt his tears increase rapidly and make their way into down his temples and onto the floor, the snot running back into his nose made it very hard to breathe. He curled into a tighter ball and turned onto his side, screeching. He didn't know how long he laid on the floor listening to his mother hum a child's song to herself, when finally the door flung open._

"_Narcissa!" the familiar voice of his father bellowed. "What the hell did you do?" _

_**Daddy! **__He perked up in hope. __**I hope he isn't angry at me,**__ he thought in an after note. __**Don't be stupid! **__Another voice hissed in his head. __**Daddy wouldn't hurt us while we're on the brink of death. We **__**are**__** his only heir you know. **__Right, the voice was right. Daddy won't do anything right now. _

_Draco felt warm clammy hands feel at his neck and the arms belonging to those hands eventually wrapped themselves around him and hoisted him in the air._

"_What the __**hell **__were you thinking Narcissa?" his father asked in outrage. Draco whimpered._

_His mother had chosen to ignore the question. "Did you hear him screaming Lucius? He was screaming louder than when he was born" Draco felt himself get dizzy at his mother's words. Black spots filling his vision. "I wish I could get that dreadful noise out of my head. Maybe if I hit him one more time?" _

"_Stop speaking such foolishness," Lucius said firmly. "And you will not lay a hand on him ever again do you understand? His destiny is not to die by the hands of his deranged mother!" he snarled before Draco felt himself fall into darkness. _

ʘ§Đ

Draco jolted up from his bed gasping for breath and clutching his abdomen, which pulsed with the memory of pain. That had been a long time ago, and it was about time that he forgot about it. _Bitch, _he thought once again.

The door flung open revealing Lucius. "Time to get up," he barked. "The Dark Lord has arrived, it's time for your initiation." With those final words said he left the room.

Draco felt his heart pound and all the blood rush to his head. _Why now? _He thought miserably, terror filling his every nerve. With very stiff jerky movements, he pulled himself out of bed and walked to the vanity—he might as well make himself presentable for his future Lord. Upon gazing at the mirror Draco came to one conclusion: he looked horrid. His long hair was tangled—sticking up in all directions—there where giant blue smudges under his eyes and his skin had taken a sickly look to it. With a sigh he began to brush it, deciding to leave it down and put on his best looking robes. With one final look in the mirror he went forth to meet his nightmares.

His heels clicked loudly in his ears. To say he was nervous was an understatement. Would Blaise and Theo be there? He wondered as he walked towards the meeting room. He had been told months ago to wait outside of the doors, before the ceremony until he was called in.

"Good evening sunshine."

Draco was pulled out of his musings and locked eyes with a familiar dark skinned boy. "Blaise!" he exclaimed and ran to give him a hug.

"Long time no see," Blaise chuckled in response. "Nice hair," he added, running a hand through the tresses.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Thanks. I'm thinking of cutting it."

"And why's that? I thought you liked it," he said with a raised eyebrow.

"Well the first reason," Draco began, ticking off his fingers, "you said the hair would attract girls but it didn't! My father hates it and says I _look _like a girl—which is probably why I'm not attracting any—and lastly, it's a pain to style every morning."

"Hmm and now you _sound _like a girl," Blaise added with a grin.

"Oh shut it you," Draco replied with a light smack to the shoulder. They quieted for a moment before Blaise spoke once again.

"If we don't make it, I just wanted to say that well…Pansy's not all that unattractive and I don't find her completely disagreeable," he said averting his eyes in embarrassment.

"I knew it!" Blaise glared at him. "Yeah…and…um…IhaveacrushonTheo," he added in a dash.

"You have a _what _on Theo?" Theo's voice boomed behind him. _Shiiiiiit! _The little voice in Draco's head screamed as he slowly turned to face the oncoming whirlwind that was Theodore Nott.

"I have a nothing on Theo!" he squeaked, his voice raising with every step that Theo took towards him.

"No, I most certainly heard you say you have a something on Theo," he argued back.

"Well then a bunch of bees must have inhabited your ears because they seem to be full of wax!"

"Now don't go playing all ino—"

"Theo, leave him alone," Blaise interrupted.

"No, you don't get it Blaise, I _need _to know!" he answered desperately. He turned his gaze back to Draco once more.

"Did you just say that youhaveacrushonTheo? Please tell me." Theo spoke softly—which seemed like a first for him.

"I may have," Draco whispered back.

"Well then Theo may not completely deny that he may or may not have _some _feelings for the person who hasacrushonTheo…if that makes any sense that is."

Draco's smile filled the hall with its brightness. "Yeah, it did." And so they stood there for a while, just looking into each other's eyes, how disgusting, Blaise thought.

"I am still here you know," he remarked, grinning at their wide, doe-eyed look. Theo cleared his throat loudly.

"Yes that you are."

They stood in silence for a little longer, clearly enjoying each other's company. They had long since accepted the fact that they may or may not make it out alive which was the reason why they were so calm at a time like this. Of course Draco wasn't _that _calm, in fact he couldn't help but squish that tiny amount of fear and nervousness deep in his gut. He was terrified. But he would never admit that to his friends. That would be dreadfully embarrassing.

The door opened with a click suddenly, and out emerged one of the Death Eaters, mask shielding the face and dark robes finishing off the look. "The Dark Lord summons you," the deep gravelly voice spoke. The three boys nodded to each other, in farewell or "may the Light be with you," as they entered the unknown.

And there the snake-man was, seated elegantly on what appeared to be a throne, his pet snake curled dangerously at his feet. Death Eaters stood behind him, all looking menacing or at least trying to considering they could not compare to the Dark Lord.

"Ah boys there you are," the Dark Lord hissed softly. "Come closer," he said, gesturing with his hands so they where to kneel at his feet. The stone floor was cold, it chilled Draco's knees greatly but it somehow also made him more aware of what was going on. "Very good," he commented when they obeyed.

"Blaise Zabini?"

"Y-yes my Lord?" Blaise stuttered in fear.

"Have you ever wanted to harm someone?"

"A c-couple of times yes," he responded. The Dark Lord grinned slowly.

"Tell me Zabini, have you ever felt the burning desire to kill a Muggle?"

"W-well…I-I…M-my…L-Lo—Yes. I have," Blaise finally responded after swallowing heavily.

Voldemort looked at him silently. "I have looked into your heart Mr. Zabini. You are afraid of me, that much is true. You also admire me for my ability to gain followers who devote their lives for my cause. You also think that I am an egotistic fool who will stop at nothing to gain an unachievable goal. You think Dumbledore will kill me in the end, that or Potter. But let me tell you something boy, I am not merciful and I have no reason to keep you around if you shall never be faithful to me. Even if you do not acknowledge it your loyalties lie not with me. I have made my decision."

Blaise's eyes widened in horror as he raised his wand gently and cast a silent spell that hit Blaise on the chest with a flash of green and knocked him over. Two house elves Apparated his body away.

Draco felt his body seize with fear and disbelief. _Bugger! _He thought helplessly. _He just __**killed **__Blaise! He killed Blaise! _He tilted his head further to the ground, hoping with all his might that the Dark Lord would not notice the quiver in his lip and the tear slowly making its way down his face.

"Mr. Nott!"

"Yes my Lord!" Theo responded with confidence, surprising Draco for he acted as if nothing had just happened to their best friend.

"Your family's faithful to me aren't they?"

"That they are my Lord!"

"And how about you?"

"E-excuse me my Lord? I do not understand."

Voldemort looked irritated, but didn't do anything for the moment. "Are you willing to submit to me? To die if I say the word?"

Theo said nothing. _Please Theo! _Draco begged mentally. _Please say something! Swallow your pride and agree. Just don't let him kill you like he did Blaise! _His head hurt at the thought of Blaise.

"You have too much pride Mr. Nott," Voldemort said matter-of-factly, "I have many followers who have pride, but none can compare to yours. You are loud, and you have the subtleness of a brick. You will not submit easily and you could probably withstand great amounts of pain if we were to force you into submission. You also have nothing else to bring me. You care for yourself more than anyone else. You will never truly be one of my own, similarly to Mr. Zabini. You see Mr. Nott," Voldemort said leaning in to look Theo right in the eyes. "You have absolutely no potential which means that I have no use for you," he finished with a malicious smile.

The Dark Lord ever so slowly lifted his wand so it pointed right between Theo's eyes. He toppled over, shrieking in pain, although it appeared as if nothing was wrong with him. Draco had heard what the screams of those who suffered under the Cruciatus sounded like, but this was strangely different. His voice was so loud, Draco thought, as he brought a shaking hand to his mouth and began to weep softly.

Theo's voice soon cut off in a guttural sound and he lay limp on the floor. He was soon Apparated away.

"Now that those two are dealt with. Onto you young Malf—" the man stopped suddenly hearing the boy in front of him start to cry. A cold sneer adorned his face. "You are weak. You could not even handle the sight of two mere boys dying and you expect yourself to see hundreds of Muggles do so? I should kill your boy now Lucius! But he's not even worth it. You have the potential to be great but you are not quite there yet. Get out of my sight, you poor excuse of a man."

Draco rose on shaky legs, tears still pouring out of his eyes. He felt a wand press against his throat and heard the soft whisper,

"Run, I swear if I see your pitiful face one more time, I won't hesitate to kill you. That is, unless you have something to bring for our cause."

And Draco certainly didn't hesitate to run. He ran like a beheaded chicken for what felt like seconds, until he reached the west wing. He stopped to catch his breath and bellowed a heart wrenching scream,

"MITSY!"

A small house elf appeared before him. "Mitsy—" he coughed, choking on his tears. "Mitsy where are they," he whimpered. "Where are Theo and Blaise?"

The elf paled, "I is guessing that Young Master wishes to see them," was all she murmured before grabbing his hand in her smaller one, and Apparating them away. They landed in a room that Draco had never seen in all of his years in the manor. There was a group of house elves circling what Draco assumed were two bodies.

"Oh no," he whimpered, a fresh batch of tears making their way down his face. He pushed past what seemed like millions of elves to finally get to the centre, where Blaise and Theo were lying motionless. He stumbled to the floor blindly and fell on Blaise's chest. The fact that he didn't stir had Draco crying once again. He lifted himself up slowly and pressed a gentle kiss on his face. "G-goodbye," he sputtered and soon made his way to Theo, who it appeared had with his eyes open. Draco closed them softly.

"Theo," he moaned before wrapping his arms around the dead boy's torso. "I'll miss you so much."

"Young Master!" one of the elves interrupted. "You must get out of here if you wish to survive!"

And that was when it hit him. If he died in the manor, no one would know. His father would simply pass it off as if he was studying abroad and that would be the end of that. He also had to make sure that people knew what had happened to Blaise and Theo. They deserved more than dying for "unknown causes." _But the wards! _He exclaimed. _**Don't be stupid, you're forgetting the blood seal. You're a Malfoy by blood, therefore you can break it! **__That's right, _Draco thought, mentally thanking the other voice in his head.

He pulled his wand swiftly out of his robes and made an incision on his forearm. It stung like a bitch but he'd felt worse. "B-by my blood, the blood of a M-Malfoy, I s-summon thee. Open!" Shit he was nervous. Ouch! He thought suddenly at the burning in his chest. _Is it supposed to feel like this? __**Doesn't matter does it? There's a break in the wards, you can feel it—it's time to make your move. **__Right. _

He grabbed both Theo and Blaise's arms and felt his way to the opening in the wards. _Shit! _A thought just hit him. _I don't know how to Apparate! __**Destination, Determination, and Deliberation. Just think of where you want to go…or something like that. **__I don't think I can do it. __**There's a first for everything, and besides it'd be better to hurt yourself than be killed yeah? **__Yeah. _

With a deep breath Draco focused with all his might and made a turn on the spot, feeling his insides squeeze and pull all at once. The burning in his chest intensified the moment he went through the wards but he ignored it once the three of them stumbled onto an empty road in Hogsmeade. He breathed a sigh of relief against the cold ground, but a quick glance at the two others on either side of him had him in a panic once again. _It's not over until I get to Dumbledore. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Yes. We have established that I suck at updating…I'm so sorry. Please don't hate me, I'll try to update more often. I really will. So yeah I warn you of spelling and grammar mistakes, if you see any please PM me and I will have them fixed. No flames please.**

_**Written in the Stars**_

"This is stupid!" Ron glowered slamming yet another book shut. "There's nothing here—or anywhere for that matter about this 'Seer' person." He exclaimed loudly making finger quotes in the air. "How do we know if this person is even real?"

"Dumbledore said they exist, why would Dumbledore lie—to me of all people?" Harry snapped. He rubbed his temples irritably at the impending headache he was getting. They were in Grimmauld Place, more specifically the library attempting to find at least a _bit _of information about the other person mentioned in the prophecy. How long they had been up here, Harry didn't know. What he did know though, was that he was getting sick of it.

"Dumbledore could have been duped!"

"Ronald, Dumbledore could not possibly have been duped. He _is _the greatest wizard of our time," Hermione said from her seat. She was currently flipping through pages in a giant book, her hair twice its normal size.

"I'm just saying," Ron continued, "He _is _getting older and things could be getting mixed up in his head. He could have been talking about Seekers for all we know."

"Ron, I'm pretty sure we weren't having a conversation about Quidditch," Harry said.

"Aha!" Hermione exclaimed, screeching in triumph. "Here it is!" The two boys nearly knocked their chairs to the ground as they shot up, scurrying to where Hermione was sitting. Their shoulders hunched as they read the passage over her curly head.

_The Se'er (SEE-er) or Oneness as commonly referred to by beasts has the ability to see what usually cannot be seen by others. The Se'er possesses the power to tame any beast and unite the creatures both magical and not if situations seem dire. It is impossible to know who might be the Se'er considering that the ones that have past existed have not been recorded as Se'ers since birth. Make not and do not mix up Se'ers with Seers as many have, due to the common spelling. Se'ers have no relations with oracles who can see into the future. Both have the gift of Sight but they are unable to manipulate it in the same way._

"And that's it," Hermione said regretfully. "All I could find was one measly paragraph!" she ended up shouting as she buried her hands angrily in her hair. Harry and Ron exchanged bewildered looks, having no idea how to comfort Hermione in her frustration. The three of them just lingered there for silent moments until Hermione finally sat back up (having rested her head on the table) with a new glint in her eyes. She pulled the book towards her and reread the paragraph again, and again before she pressed her lips together and stared into the air.

"Think she's alright?" Ron whispered.

"Not sure," Harry replied. "I think she's broken."

"Damn, that means we'll have to get her fixed in order to figure out the rest of the Prophecy. How much do you think that'll cost?"

"I can hear you, you know," she said briskly, interrupting their banter. She got up off her chair and began searching through the bookshelves once again.

"Hermione what are we looking for now?" Ron whined. "I'm tired and it took us so long to find that book."

"Just look for anything that mentions magical creatures and their beliefs," she told them as she pulled out a book.

Harry felt his shoulders drop as he made his way to the back of the library, Ron following close behind. Once they were out of ear shot his freckled friend turned to him and muttered, "I really don't wanna do this. Seriously I'm starving and she won't let me eat anything, saying it'll _damage the books_."

Harry smiled and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "It's all right mate, once we find whatever it is Hermione needs you can eat to your heart's content."

ʘ§Đ

Nine hours. They had been in that damp-musky-smelling library for nine _fucking _hours. They had gotten there at nine in the morning having eaten a light breakfast before that and had spent the entire day cooped up in there. Ginny had come up to give them a small lunch of sandwiches and they were still looking for books by six in the evening. By now, Harry wanted to rip out all of his hair and maybe some of Hermione's too at the bossy rate she was going. Putting another useless book back on its shelf Harry made his way around a corner only to jolt a table with his hip, sending a pile of books tumbling down to the floor. Cursing like a sailor he dropped to his knees and began picking them up. Half way through he picked up a relatively small book bound in worn leather with gold writing on the cover. It was very hard to read being completely covered with dust and cobwebs. He gently wiped it clean and read the neat writing, _Magical Creatures: Unknown Truths. _Well, Harry thought, a wolfish grin appearing on his face, this just might be the book he needed. He glanced down at the other books on the floor; he really didn't want to clean them up. So he didn't, the house elf could always do it. If Hermione ever caught him thinking that she would have castrated him.

Book held loosely in his hand he made his way to where Hermione was seated with a light grin. "This is no time for smiling Harry," she commented upon seeing him, "we still have ways to go." Her eyes went back to the book she was looking in.

"Oh but I believe it _is _a time for smiling Hermione considering that I have found the answer to our question," he held up the book in the air as one might hold a great sword but she did not look up from her book.

"Honestly Harry," she exclaimed. "If this is another book on food or Quidditch I just might hit you." Harry recalled the multiple jokes he and Ron had pulled saying that they had found the book when in truth they had not.

"I'm not joking Hermione, seriously I think this is it."

She huffed in exasperation and held out her hand expectantly. He handed the book to her slowly but she chose to snatch it out of his hand in annoyance. She flipped to the back of the book, searching for something in the index. When her eyes widened slightly Harry knew that she had probably found what she was looking for. She hastily flicked through the pages and he noticed that in her excitement she had gone too far and had to turn the pages back a little. Hermione exclaimed joyfully that she had found what she was looking for. The noise roused Ron from where he had probably been sleeping behind some shelves and found the two boys once again hovering over her shoulders.

_The Oneness, commonly referred to as the Se'er to beings is thought of as the one to bring all the sacred creatures together in a time of great need. It has the knowledge of all clans and even the history of creatures without such a distinct society. Creatures both magical and non will cling to the Oneness as much as possible, reasons for this are unknown. The Oneness itself though cannot simply cease to exist or be destroyed for once the body is ruined and their soul is no longer in this world the Wild Magic that possesses the person will simply find another host that can fulfil what is written in the stars._

"Well that was just about as informative as what we had before," Ron muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"No," Hermione said joyfully. "This is actually just what we need. Now all we have to do is look up Wild Magic and then we'll be good for today."

Harry and Ron sighed in exasperation. "Seriously Hermione? We've been here for so long, can't we just give it a break?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Ron said, immediately agreeing. "Imagine how long it's going to take to fine _another _book."

"Oh shush you," Hermione said fondly. "I already know what book it's going to be in, all I have to do is summon it," their faces lit up. "Accio _Types of Magicks by J.D Swindiggle." _She said as she waved her wand in the air.

A large book flew to her and nearly managed to smack her in the head if she hadn't caught it. She placed it gently on the table and held her wand above it. The book instantly flew open flipping through pages all on its own. Hermione's face was one of shock when instead of stopping at the page she desired it flipped to the very end of the book. Puzzled she picked it up in her hands flipping through manually until she let out a strangled scream. Harry jolted in surprise wondering if the book had come to life and taken a bite out of her. He was proven wrong though when Hermione exclaimed in frustration,

"Why is it not in here?"

"Hermione, calm down," Ron said soothingly reaching to stoke her hair.

"I can't! It's almost as if the book is mocking me! It goes straight from Varec Magic to Xenurine Magic. It completely skips 'w.' Wild Magic isn't even that hard a concept why wouldn't it be in the book?" she finished sounding almost heartbroken.

"What's varec mean?" Ron asked questioningly, still stoking her hair.

"It's like, seaweed. Actually it is seaweed," Hermione answered softly. "Hmm," Ron responded, "didn't know seaweed was that special to be categorized in a book about types of magic."

"It's not," she replied. "Its chemical properties in Potions can be thought of as "magical" though."

"And xenurine?" Harry enquired.

"A species of armadillo."

"Armadillo…" Harry said. Armadillos really didn't seem all that unique. The three of them lapsed into silence, having no idea what to say. Harry finally let out a heavy sigh.

"Hermione, don't worry about it. We've actually managed to get a fair amount of information today," he told her trying to make her feel better. Hermione smiled slightly.

"You're right," she said. "We'll leave off on the research for now and spend more time analyzing the prophecy. If there is more research to be done then we'll do it. Now is anyone hungry?"

Ron let out a joyful whoop and then said calmly, "I'm starving," making the other two chuckle. He gave them a look. "Well why are you two not moving? I wasn't joking when I said I was starving if we wait any longer I might just end up eating the books in this library."

Hermione collected the two books that proved useful and the three of them then made their way downstairs to the kitchen for some well deserved food.

ʘ§Đ

Albus Dumbledore watched the boy in front of him carefully over half-moon spectacles. There the small one sat; his back straight and his silver eyes widened ever so slightly in shock. His white-blond hair was bound in a long braid that reached his elbows that he had pulled over a shoulder. His long slender fingers were wrapped around the end of his braid to the point where they turned a deathly white. It seemed almost as if he was somehow trying to anchor himself to the real world, or at least try to prove to himself that this was all just a bad dream. Behind him, lying on two transfigured cots that were once previously chairs were two boys who were clearly dead. There, before him, sat none other than Draco Malfoy who looked as if his world had come to an end.

The old wizard rubbed his temples lightly, trying to figure out how to approach the problem at hand. "Mr. Malfoy," he began lightly, seeing the boy wince slightly at the sound of his voice. "Would you care to tell what happened my dear boy?" he asked gently.

Draco opened his mouth to speak, only to close it once again. He did this several times in fact, looking as if he were a fish out of water. He finally shut his mouth with a click, having no idea how to phrase what he had just witnessed.

"It's alright," Dumbledore soothed, "you can tell me, I will keep whatever secrets you have to share. Have a lemon drop," he added, nudging a small dish towards the boy, who had now started to tremble ever so slightly.

"I-I-ah. Umm. Well f-father came and woke me up a-and said that I had to get initiated or at least that the initiation was being held tonight," Draco began stiffly. "I-I went downstairs and there were Theo and Blaise so I assumed that the three of us were going to receive our Dark Marks…or something. We kneeled in front of him and the next thing I know everyone was dead. He didn't kill me though," Draco let out a humourless huff of laughter, "he said I was too weak. It's funny though," he began at a more rapid pace, his steady voice soon turning hysteric as he locked eyes with the Headmaster. "You'd expect him to kill _me _rather than them. I m-mean, they were so headstrong and powerful compared to me. And now they're dead. Theo and Blaise are dead," he repeated once more, his eyes widened a fraction and tears began to well in them. "Holy shit. Theo and Blaise are dead. Oh shit," he repeated bringing his hands to his mouth as the tears began to flow freely down his face. "Sorry Professor," he hiccupped noticing just now that he had cursed in front of the old man.

"It's quite alright, dear boy," Dumbledore said, lifting an arm to pat Draco's shoulder. "There was nothing you could do. Now what happened after that?"

After Draco had calmed a bit he wiped his cheeks and then placed his hands in his lap where he clasped them tightly. "I asked a house elf where they were being kept and then I broke the wards surrounding the Manor and Disapparated here," he finished, voice shaking.

"Did anything happen when you went through the wards?" the old man questioned. Draco thought for a moment.

"I felt a strange burning in my chest," he responded, "but I think that may have been because I don't know how to Apparate, so I must have botched it up somehow," he added. Dumbledore was silent for a moment before giving him a small reassuring smile.

"That might be it. We'll pay a quick visit to the Infirmary and have Madam Pomfrey take a look at you. Do not fear Draco, I have every intention of protecting you from anything that might happen," he added when noticing the boy's shifty look.

"Thank you, sir. I am very grateful. What are we going to do about…" he drifted off slowly, but the Headmaster knew he was referring to the two boys laying motionless behind him.

"I shall take care of it. You do not need to worry yourself any further. Now let's head down and make sure you're in tip top shape and you and I can give the boys a proper burial tomorrow morning."

"Sir?" Draco asked hesitantly. "I think they would prefer to have a funeral pyre."

Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly at the request but he could find no reason to say no. "Very well then, but we will have to rise before the sun in order to not alert any of the students who are still in the castle."

Draco nodded and the two made their way down the halls and to the Infirmary.

They exchanged no words as they walked. Dumbledore understood that the boy obviously did not want to talk, and he would not force him to. When they arrived he called softly to Madam Pomfrey, who had been sleeping. She emerged from her chamber quickly and was more than shocked upon discovering that it was Draco Malfoy who accompanied the Headmaster. She told him to sit on the bed at the farthest end of the Infirmary to keep him away from the other occupants and she closed the curtain around him, leaving him once again confined to the company of Dumbledore. They remained in silence until she returned once more with a cup of something in her hand.

"Here you go my dear, drink up," when he made no move to take the cup from her hand she added, "It's only a calming drought for your nerves. Perfectly safe." He took the cup and slowly emptied it of its contents.

"Good," she said approvingly. "Now if you'll just sit still a minute more and I'll have finished my examination."

She pulled her wand out and waved it around for a bit. Draco watched in slight interest as a blue wisp circled his body and eventually faded away. Madam Pomfrey frowned slightly and waved her wand once more, a yellow wisp following the same path as the blue one before it disappeared as well. "Last one," she said almost as if she was giving him one of those Muggle vaccines and was trying to reassure him that the pain would soon be over. The last wisp that circled him was red. Judging by the old woman's face Draco assumed that she had gotten the results she wanted and with another flick of her wand he found himself in a pair of white pajamas.

"There you are love," she began. "Now you get your sleep. You look exhausted."

"Bright and early tomorrow morning, right Draco?" Dumbledore added.

"Yes sir," the boy said quietly before lying back on the bed and pulling the covers up to his chin.

The two adults gave him smiles that were meant to comfort him but Draco could see that they didn't quit reach their eyes. "If you need anything just give a shout," Madam Pomfrey said reassuringly before the two stepped out and closing the curtain once again.

Draco closed his eyes hoping that sleep could erase what had happened and that it would carry him to some far off place where he could just be happy. His eyes snapped open when he heard two familiar hushed voices. He sat up in his bed and strained his ears wishing to catch a snippet of their conversation.

"That poor boy," he heard Pomfrey say. "I can't believe he went through such a thing."

"And made it out unscathed on top of that," Dumbledore said. "Did you end up finding anything wrong with him?"

"I'm not quite sure Albus," she said softly. "My readings said that there was nothing wrong. No physical damage, nothing mental other than a lot of shock at having to witness the death of his loved ones.

"So what's the problem?"

Pomfrey let out a frustrated noise. "The first thing I tested him for was how concentrated his magic was. You know perfectly well that the purpose of that certain spell is to attack the magic and see how it responds. A person's magic has a higher concentration if adrenaline is pumping through their veins or if they have been using it recently, such as Apparation or also in Mr. Malfoy's case, breaking through his family's wards. The higher the concentration of magic the more of a reaction the subject will have to the spell. For example if I was to test Mr. Potter after he had just been gallivanting on one of his adventures he would have at least flinched from a small bit of pain, due to his magic spreading suddenly all around his body to fend off the attacker. Mr Malfoy did not react at all."

"That does pose as a problem," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "We will have to look into it. There is certainly nothing we can do about it right now."

"You are right Headmaster. I just worry that when we do discover what has happened it might be too late."

"Fear not Poppy, he may just have a block with his magic from all the stress he has been through."

"I do hope so."

Draco leaned back into the bed slowly, trying to digest what he had heard. After a long while of mulling things over he decided that it probably wasn't as bad as it seemed and promptly shut his eyes.

ʘ§Đ

_He knew he was dreaming. He was __**always **__dreaming. But something about this dream seemed frighteningly familiar. He was sitting by the lake, cross legged and pulling grass from the ground. Blaise was leaning on a tree with a book in his lap. Theo was flopped on his back staring at the clouds. He did not know how they got onto the topic of death but somehow they did. _

"_I refuse to be buried," Theo exclaimed, not moving from his spot. _

"_What's wrong with being buried?" Blaise had asked._

"_Well firstly, I don't like thinking about how eventually all my flesh will be gone and I'll just be bones. I also don't want my grave robbed."_

"_You have to be bat-shit crazy to want to rob a grave," Draco interrupted with a smile. _

_Theo chuckled in responds, "Too right you are my friend. I also don't want some Dark fucker to be wandering through the graveyard thinking 'oh wouldn't Theodore Nott make a good Inferi?' I couldn't stand it if someone did that." _

_They all agreed solemnly. Having your body—even though you no longer inhabited it—controlled by some Dark wizard was just…disgusting._

"_So what would you prefer?" Blaise questioned, raising an eyebrow, "would you rather be burned?" he had meant it as a joke but as soon as the words had left his mouth he noted on how practical it sounded. _

"_Actually that sounds like a great idea," Theo said. "I mean, once you're burned there'll be nothing left of you. Nothing anyone can use against you even though you're dead. That's the way I want to be sent off. On a pyre." _

"_That's a very logical decision Theo. I'm proud of you," Draco said, "but could we please talk about anything other than death? It's such a morbid thought." _

"_Alright," Blaise spoke, "how 'bout we talk about your incapability of climbing down stairs without nearly breaking your face?" _

ʘ§Đ

When Dumbledore said that they would rise before the sun, he hadn't exaggerated, Draco thought as he trudged through the dark grounds following the old man. Once they had made it to the Quidditch field of all places Draco saw himself facing two very large stacks of wood with two bodies on each one.

"I had the house elves prepare the ceremony," Dumbledore said softly, "now all we need to do is light the fire. Would you do the honours Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco swallowed hard. He wanted to send them off, he really did but…he wasn't sure he could do this. "I-I don't think I can…would you?" he asked, tears prickling at the back of his eyes. The Headmaster looked at him sadly and murmured a soft, "of course," before raising his wand in the air. The pyres lit instantly and the fire soon began to spread rapidly. Draco could smell some sort of plant or herb burning above the smoke, probably to mask the smell of burning flesh and hair. He felt his stomach churn violently; he could not believe this was happening.

"Dear boy, are you alright?" he heard Dumbledore say. Draco opened his mouth to reply but before he could get a word out he felt hot bile make its way up his throat and out of his mouth. He doubled over emptying the contents of his stomach all over his shoes. He felt gentle hands pull his hair back out of his face. Tears began to stream heavily down his face along with the vomit expelling violently out of him. As soon as it had started it had ended. Dumbledore vanished the vomit but Draco couldn't bring himself to stop crying. He crumpled to the ground simply staring at the billowing smoke, his chest heaving with every sob. He wailed until the sun rose, until everything had been burned and there was nothing left but ash.

Dumbledore took his wand out once more and waved it over the pile of ash. Draco watched miserably as the ash began to rise and float in the direction of the lake. He followed it until he saw it sink into the lake only to be churned into the water. "There," Dumbledore said stowing his wand back into his robes. "Now they'll always be a part of this school. If ever you want to feel near them, sit by the lake." Draco could only nod in thanks. "Shall we go for breakfast?" Dumbledore continued. Draco nodded once more, eyes unfocused, as he grabbed the corner of the old man's sleeve like a lost child.

ʘ§Đ

To say that Albus Dumbledore wasn't even a tad concerned about this incident was an understatement. Firstly, as a member of the Order he was concerned about Voldemort. The murder of two mere boys was…out of character for the man. And that he left one of them alive? That was truly perplexing. He must have some sort of ulterior motives. The second thing he was most concerned about was the poor boy that had been unknowingly caught up in such a situation. He had just witnessed two of his closest friends die and had strangely escaped death himself. Yes he was worried because the boy seemed to have no one to turn to at the moment. But what truly made him feel nervous for some unknown reason was the strange empty feeling he got when around the boy. It wasn't his empty eyes that made him feel this way…something was just strangely off.

He had finally gotten the boy off of his arm and had sent him to the Infirmary for some well needed rest. If anything happened to him though, he would have Madam Pomfrey alert him immediately.

A soft knocking at his door pulled him out of his thoughts. "Enter," he said. Madam Pomfrey hesitantly walked in. She sat herself down across from him, folding her hands gently in her lap. "Ah, what can I do for you Poppy?"

"I've run more tests on Mr. Malfoy. I focussed more on those that test his magic rather than his physical and mental state."

"And what results have there been?" he asked, greatly interested. Madam Pomfrey's shoulders slouched ever so slightly.

"There haven't been any," she said. "No matter how many tests I've run, there have been no results. It was almost as if I was testing a Muggle."

"Are you sure?" he questioned. She nodded grimly. "That's not good." Well that explained why he didn't feel the familiar feeling of magic surrounding the boy.

ʘ§Đ

Draco shivered as he walked down the hallway to Dumbledore's office. His day had been terrible. He had stayed out of sight for all of it and made no contact with any human being other than Dumbledore and Pomfrey. Oddly enough he wasn't disappointed about it; in fact he actually preferred to remain antisocial at the moment. He feared of when his housemates returned and asked where Theo and Blaise were. He had no idea how to respond. He groaned inwardly what would he do if _Pansy _asked? That was a conversation he was certainly not looking forward to.

His head hurt slightly and he felt a dull ache in his chest but he assumed that it was just grief. Upon reaching Dumbledore's office he mindlessly spoke the password and made his way up the stairs. He didn't bother knocking; knowing full well that if Dumbledore asked for him he probably would not be occupied with anything else at the moment. He found both Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster waiting for him inside.

"Hello," he murmured politely.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, there you are. Take a seat," Dumbledore said. "I must say, you should learn to knock now and then, who knows what you could have been interrupting," the old man added in an afterthought.

Draco blushed heavily in embarrassment. He then recalled what Severus had told him a while ago about knocking. The thought of Pomfrey and Dumbledore getting it on made his stomach churn.

"I'm sorry," he apologized as he took a seat.

"It's quite alright," Dumbledore said briskly. "Now onto another matter, have you done any magic since you arrive?"

Draco thought for a moment and was quite shocked when he realised he hadn't. "No," he answered. "I found there really wasn't a need to, since classes haven't started yet and the train arrives tonight."

Dumbledore looked slightly relieved. "It is unfortunate for me to tell you this Mr. Malfoy but Madam Pomfrey and I believe that you are unable to."

Draco made a perplexed face. "What do you mean I'm unable to? I haven't done any so far so there really isn't any proof of your assumption," he snapped.

"Very well then," Pomfrey said instead of Dumbledore bristling at his tone of voice. "Why don't you try to cast a spell and then we'll have our answer."

Draco really wanted to slap the old bint in the face. Of course he couldn't well he could but he really _shouldn't _considering it was very bad manners. So instead he drew his wand and said, "Lumos." Nothing happened. _What the fuck?_ He thought. "Lumos," he repeated firmly. Again nothing happened. He looked up at Dumbledore.

"What did you do?" he asked, immediately assuming the old man had done something to him.

"What makes you believe that I have done something?" the Headmaster asked.

"I can do magic!" Draco yelled loudly. "I broke the wards at my house, I Apparated here! I can do magic! Why can't I do magic?" he ended hysterical.

"We are unsure about why exactly but we have an idea."

"Why?" Draco asked desperately.

"Your house."

"My house," he repeated numbly.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "Houses as old as Malfoy Manor have the ability to sense when someone is attempting to leave the premises without their master's permission. So in attempt to protect their master and make certain he is not defied they have a knack for stripping people of their magic," he ended bluntly.

"You don't say. Well it seems as if my life can't get any better," he exclaimed. "What next professor? Am I going to be raped by a vampire and be forced to carry its child?" he laughed grimly at his poor joke.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously Mr. Malfoy," Pomfrey said softly.

"Oh, I'm taking it plenty serious Madam." He looked her in the eyes, and she was shocked at how cold and miserable they were. "My entire future has been taken away from me. I wanted to be a Healer, but you need magic for that don't you? Damn. I might as well start living with Muggles since I've got no place in our world," he choked that last part out.

"No," Dumbledore intervened. "You shall be living the rest of your life as a Squib, until we find a way to restore you of you magic." Draco didn't respond for quite some time. But when he did, Dumbledore was surprised by what he had to say.

"It's funny Professor," he began calmly. "I've been living my entire life hearing people say I'll live my entire life a certain way until they find a cure. But they haven't been doing that sir. Those are just empty words. Do you want to know why I wanted to become a Healer?" he did not bother to wait for a response. "I want to help people like me. People who are suffering from an unknown disease, waiting to die, rather than living their lives happily. I don't want to fill them with false hope as I busy myself with other matters. With more _achievable _matters. Who's to say that you aren't giving me false hope like all the other people I've encountered in my life?"

"Mr. Malfoy, I can assure you that Madam Pomfrey and I will try to the best of our abilities to help you through this time," Dumbledore said firmly.

"You've got a war to worry about. I know for a fact that I come second to it." Draco saw a flash of annoyance in Dumbledore's eyes for a brief second. "I appreciate what you are trying to do but please do not make false promises." The three of them remained silent for a moment until Dumbledore spoke yet again.

"We also need to discuss your schooling."

Draco felt his blood freeze. They weren't going to kick him out of Hogwarts were they? It was enough already that he would be incapable of performing the simplest spells but now forcing him to leave? No, they couldn't, he thought miserably. Dumbledore must have sensed his distress for he raised his hands in reassurance.

"There are some classes you are unable to attend, so we simply need to cut them out of your schedule and inform the respective teachers of this change."

Draco let out an audible sigh of relief. At least he was here to stay. "You will no longer be taking Transfiguration, Charms, or Defense Against the Dark Arts. So for the remainder of the year you will be furthering your learning in Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, Divination, and Care of Magical Creatures."

"Sir…how am I supposed to take Divination and Potions with no magic? I clearly remember Trelawney say that you need the "Inner Eye" in order to succeed in her class. And in Potions you sometimes are required to do a bit of wand work."

"Do not worry about Divination dear boy. As for Potions I'm sure you can bully your partner into waving his or her wand to complete the potion," he added with a twinkling in his eyes. Draco blushed in embarrassment before letting out a loud sigh. "Something wrong Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked him.

"I'm just trying to swallow everything that's happened," he replied softly and rubbed his faces with his hands. "Bet you stuff like this doesn't happen to your precious Potter," he commented grimly.

"Mr. Malfoy—" Pomfrey began but Dumbledore silenced her with a hand.

"You and Mr. Potter are much more similar than you think," he said the boy.

Draco removed his hands from his face and raised a questioning eyebrow at the old man. "Potter's got no parents, I do. They chose to die for him; mine don't give a flying fuck. Potter's got friends, mine are dead. Potter's got magic, oh look, I don't. So tell me professor, how exactly are we similar?" he asked snidely.

"You both had your decisions made for you and were forced into situations you never wished to be a part of," the Headmaster answered almost immediately. "I suggest you try speaking to him. He may be quite the friend in the future."


	9. Chapter 9

_**Written in the Stars**_

The problem with speaking to Potter was that Draco simply did not want to. Yes they may have _some _similarities—Draco would admit to that—but how would he approach the situation? He pondered as he made his way unknowingly to his dormitory. He had already tried speaking to Potter first year, that hadn't turned out how he expected. In fact it had been a disaster; Weasley had been there to laugh at his face. Potter didn't even seem like the rude type when they had met at the robes shop. In fact Draco rather enjoyed how quiet and shy he had been. He scoffed thinking about the large, rude, and obnoxious man-child that Potter had grown up to be. He was a barbarian who spoke with his mouth full and failed miserably in every class—oh wait maybe he was thinking of Weasley. But still Potter wasn't very good at Potions or Transfiguration and not to mention that he was an absolute horrid teacher when it came to that Defense club.

Draco stopped abruptly. "Oh," he let out as a whispery sigh. Now that he didn't have magic he couldn't go to Defense and being unable to go to Lupin's class meant that he was no longer failing and needed remedial classes. So he wouldn't actually have a reason to see Potter ever again. The only classes they shared were Potions and Herbology and they would probably never speak to each other unless partnered which even now was very unlikely. Draco didn't know why he felt a little bit disappointed by this notion; maybe he had come to enjoy Potter's company? He shook his head and held back a grim snicker. That certainly wasn't it. Anyways it didn't matter; he had other things to worry about.

He let out a sigh as he lay on his bed tears streaming gently down his face. Kicking off his shoes he crawled under the covers of his bed and fell into a numbing slumber. He did not wake when he saw the light shine in the dorm or when he heard the other Slytherins bargaining around.

ʘ§Đ

The past week went by in a haze. Every day he would wake just before classes began to avoid having to eat alone. He would take his potion and then arrive nearly late and sit at the back. If people asked him where Blaise and Theo were he would simply state that they had transferred, or moved. His story changed every time. He went straight to the dorm after classes, that or the boys' lavatory and completed any work he had been assigned. He avoided meal times and people in general like the plague.

There had been many times when he had seen Severus in the halls and he had just barely managed to steer clear of the man. He could not bear having to talk to him. Severus would of course ask how he was doing, how were his classes, had he been losing weight? And after Draco answered the pesky questions he would then put a hand on the young boy's shoulder and say that everything would be alright. _Lies! _Nothing was right anymore. His magic was gone, his friends were dead, he obviously had no home to go back to either not that he was welcome there in the first place. Well at least the only thing he could look forward to would be his inevitable death by illness. Maybe if he stopped taking his potions it would hurry up and kill him already.

_No, _he concluded as everyone began to leave the Divinations room. _I can't be acting all depressed. It's not worth it. _Of course it wasn't worth it, but that didn't mean that he had no right to be sad, hell, he'd never felt so miserable in his entire life.

"And do not forget to practise your palm reading tonight!" a misty voice interrupted his thoughts. He grimaced, being in this class certainly wasn't making him feel any better either considering all the deaths that were foreshadowed in a single hour.

Slowly, he picked up his books and began to fill his back, shifting things around so that nothing was crushed. He looked up once he was done and was face-to-face with the biggest pair of magnified eyes that he had ever seen. He gasped loudly and clutched his heart, having nearly jumped a foot in the air.

"Hmm," the bug-eyed woman said slowly, "You're Inner Eye is very weak my child, you would have seen it coming otherwise."

"Oh," he breathed once he had regained himself. "Excuse me Professor, but I did not think that the Inner Eye could grant someone Sight for something so trivial."

Trelawney sniffed arrogantly. "Of course it can dear boy, I certainly foresaw it didn't I?" Draco glared at her. _Of course you saw it coming old bat, _he thought venomously, _you were the one who did it! _

"You're life appears to be very bleak now, does it not?" she spoke. He looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face. "Although it may seem," she continued softly, almost as if to herself, "that those with the bleakest lives can say more so than others, that they have truly _lived._" She faded off to a whisper and Draco just stared at her wondering if she would say anything more. Truth be told this was the most the batty woman had ever said to him and it was quite frightening. She muttered something under her breath.

"Excuse me?" he questioned, having no idea what she said. "Palm readings," she repeated; a dopy smile on her face. "Be sure you practise Mr. Malfoy, we will need it plenty for tomorrow."

Draco's eyebrows knit together in confusion. Here he had been wondering what the magnificent Trelawney had to say. All she did was remind him of his homework. Whatever, he thought, shaking his head as he made his way down the stairs on to his next class. She was a funny lady, Trelawney. He wasn't exactly sure if he liked her or not. But he had to admit sometimes it felt as if she really knew what she was talking about, then she'd go and talk about stupid things and he'd be lost.

"Hey Malfoy," a voice called. He looked up and saw Potter and his cronies.

"Hello Potter," Draco replied politely which was shocking for him.

"You didn't come to DA and I haven't seen you in Defense class either."

Draco rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of frustration. "Honestly Potter, I don't see how that's any of your business." With that said he began to walk away until Weasley's voice called him back.

"Where are your henchmen Malfoy? Haven't seen them around much nowadays either."

It was a trap. Draco knew it was a trap but for the life of him he didn't know why he couldn't move. He begged himself to ignore the ginger's words, to walk away since he knew that nothing good would come from this conversation. But he just stood there, hypnotized by the boy's voice. Weasley let out a scoff.

"Imagine what it must be like Harry, having to be housemates with Malfoy," he was talking to Potter now. "Everyone says that they've transferred but you know what I think? I think they've probably offed themselves. That's what I'd do if I had to follow this prat around."

Draco wasn't really sure how he managed to wrestle Weasley to the ground and keep him there. But he found it didn't matter once he had gotten a good grip on the other boy's throat. He barely registered the Mudblood screaming nor did he feel the tears running down his face. All that really mattered right now was the wonderful shade of purple Weasley's face was turning beneath him. The other boy clawed at his hands like a wild animal, managing to scratch them up something horrid, blood seeping through his fingers, making them terribly slick.

_You deserve it, _he thought mercilessly. Weasley didn't know of his pain, the loss he felt. The only people who had actually cared for him were dead. And although he couldn't make Voldemort pay he would certainly make Weasley. _Bitch-faced pauper. You fucking deserve it! _He raged silently, more tears making their way down his face, his mouth clamped shut, and teeth grinding so hard that he was sure he tasted blood.

There was more screaming and he finally felt Potter's urgent hands trying to pull him away from his beloved friend. He could feel anger and fear radiating off of Potter like waves. Draco was mighty surprised that the other boy hadn't managed to pull him off sooner. But it didn't matter; there was no stopping him now. Students had gathered around them, whispering openly to each other, wondering what the hell was going on.

Apparently Potter had gotten help from one of his Gryffindors and Draco felt two sets of hands pry him away from the now out cold Ron Weasley. He would have none of that; he kicked his feet, screamed and clawed. The two boys simply lifted him so that he was being carried under the arms, legs flailing madly in the air. He did not know where they were taking him, tears having clouded his vision and he could mildly hear McGonagall barking orders. It was hopeless, he would never have the chance to properly strangle Weasley and he was never going to see Theo or Blaise ever again. His breathing became more erratic, tears kept flowing down his face and he _howled _in misery, screeching his sorrows to the heavens. Hoping, _praying _that somehow the two would rise from the dead and come back to him.

Finally, he was dropped into a seat and he immediately curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his legs and burying his face in his knees. Heavy sobs wracked his body. A soft hand found its way to his back and he flinched violently from the touch. The hand retreated.

"Shh," a soft voice soothed, which he recognized to be Pomfrey's. "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy," she chanted in attempt to grab his attention and stop his weeping.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Dumbledore's impatient voice roared. He stopped mid sob and forced himself to _shut the fuck up. _He slowly lifted his head up and looked sadly into the old man's furious blue eyes.

"I will not tolerate such violence against another student in my school," he bit harshly. Draco shrunk in his chair. "What you have done is unacceptable and you must be punished for it—"

"And what?" Draco interrupted, surprisingly calm for someone who had just been on the verge of a mental break down, "are you gonna kick me out? By all means go for it! As a matter of fact I'd be happy if you would!" he was screaming now, it was completely unjustified but it felt good. Thinking about it though, it made him wonder if he was really prepared to be kicked out of school. Right now it was the only place he ever considered home, it was his only sanctuary. But it held too many painful memories that he did not want to face. Everywhere he looked he was reminded of his loss. So if Dumbledore decided that Draco could no longer come to school, it probably wouldn't be all that bad.

"Is that what you want Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked him softly. Draco was silent; looking at the old man's left ear rather than his piercing eyes. "Even if we do expel you, it would not be much of a punishment if you so desired it. Tell me Mr. Malfoy did you attempt to kill Ronald Weasley in hopes that we would send you away?"

Draco opened his mouth, ready to protest but he felt a horrible familiar burn in his chest. It made its way up his throat and forced a cough into his hand. He winced when he felt something wet on his hand. The room had silenced once he had raised his hand to his mouth but now everyone was staring and the large red stain on the small ghostly white hand. Draco let out a small huff of breath and soon began to laugh hysterically. _It can't get any worse than this. _

ʘ§Đ

Harry stared at Malfoy in bewilderment. He swore the other boy was an enigma. Usually he was an annoying prat no dangerous than a fruit fly but today…there was seriously something wrong with him today. He was small, Harry knew that and Harry would bet every galleon in his account that Malfoy knew that as well. By being small he would not regularly be the first to attack someone physically, but the fact that he had the strength to take down Ron (who was nearly twice the blonde boy's height _and _weight) was too much for Harry to take in. The absolute _murderous _look in his eyes as he strangled Ron chilled Harry to the bones. But what frightened Harry even more was that Malfoy looked to be in even more pain than Ron was in. His face had been a horrible blotchy red, morphed under all of his fringe and tears. The way he screeched….Harry never thought he would ever hear such a noise. Dumbledore had threatened the boy with expulsion—he certainly did not seem fazed by it. And now he was laughing like an utter lunatic. It was enough to make Harry feel incredibly uncomfortable.

He looked out of the corner of his eyes and met Neville's equally frightened gaze. Harry grimaced as he heard Malfoy let out another hacking cough before he continued giggling for a little more. He saw Dumbledore raise his eyebrows up in questioning.

"Are you quite done?" the old man asked. Malfoy cleared his throat noisily before responding.

"It honestly can't get any worse professor," he said breathlessly. "First I lose them, now you want to expel me. By all means professor do whatever you see fit." Malfoy let his head flop back so it rested against the back of his chair, his eyes gazing at something no one else could see, he almost looked dead.

Harry felt the air rush out of him as he heard what the other boy had to say. _I think they've probably offed themselves….First I lose them…_Shit. Nott and Zabini had not transferred had they…they were probably dead…And Ron had rubbed that in Malfoy's face. Shit. Well, Harry assumed that he probably had to apologise for Ron, not that he really wanted to.

"I am not planning on expelling you," Dumbledore said calmly. Malfoy's eyes snapped back into focus. "But do not think that you will escape this unpunished. You will be serving detentions every day after classes with the teacher I see fit. You will spend all of your weekends serving these detentions as well, which will consist mostly of hard labour. Your Hogsmeade privileges will be taken away from you. You have no right to any extracurricular such as Quidditch or even a wizard's chess team. You will only be given a certain amount of food and confined to your dormitory unless going to classes or detention."

Malfoy's eyes widened with every word, "What am I—a felon?"

"You might as well be," Dumbledore said coldly. "Be grateful I am not having you sent to Azkaban for assault." Malfoy opened his mouth to respond but Dumbledore spoke over him, "no Mr. Malfoy it is not fair but you should have thought of that before harming one of my students. Now Madam Pomfrey will escort you to your dormitory. You are excused."

Malfoy rose slowly, wiping his mouth. The Medi-Witch took his elbow in her hand, grasping it firmly once he tried to shake it off. Harry was thankful that the other boy walked with his head down so he wouldn't accidentally lock eyes and see the misery there. He was about to follow them out until Dumbledore's voice called him back.

"Misters Potter and Longbottom please take a seat." Harry shared an uneasy look with Neville before they sat down. "Now I would like to clear something up with the two of you regarding Mr. Nott and Zabini—"

"They're dead aren't they," Harry interrupted before he could stop himself.

"Yes they are," the headmaster responded, rubbing his temples wearily, "by the hands of Voldemort nevertheless. Now I would like the two of you to keep this between each other. It would do Mr. Malfoy no good if others were aware of it." The two nodded, the old man smiled softly. "Good, now please take a lemon drop before you go."

ʘ§Đ

Three days had past and Harry hadn't even seen a glance of Malfoy other than in classes. He guessed that Dumbledore had been completely serious in his punishment.

Mrs. Weasley had arrived at the school as soon as possible as well as the twins. Mr. Weasley on the other hand had a hard time getting off of work and arrived much later. They were all outraged at what had happened to Ron. Ron was still unconscious when his family had arrived causing Mrs. Weasley to cry as if he were on his death bed. Harry was surprised to discover that Malfoy had actually delivered quite some damage to Ron's windpipe, leaving him to be confined to the hospital wing for a week. Ron certainly wasn't too happy about this.

Harry now sat across his red haired friend playing a game of chess—losing of course. Hermione sat on a chair by his side reading a book and occasionally stroking Ron's hand. Fred and George watched the two play as well as Ginny, who sat by Harry's side. Mr and Mrs. Weasley were due for their daily visit.

"I still can't believe that Malfoy would attack you Ronnie, are you sure you weren't hallucinating?" Fred joked wickedly.

"Hey I can't believe it either," Ron replied, his mouth full with all of the get-well treats he had received. "He was like a demon though! Just up and pounced on me for no good reason."

"You provoked him Ronald," Hermione said with practised ease.

"Really? How?" he asked her.

"I don't even remember anymore," she replied without so much as glancing from her book. "Knowing how sensitive that boy is, I'm sure he would have attacked even if you suggested his hair was dyed blonde rather than natural."

Everyone chuckled. Harry said nothing. Of course he knew the actual truth but he really found no reason to speak of it. After all, Dumbledore did tell him and Neville to keep it quite. If he corrected Hermione not only would he be going against Dumbledore's orders but he would also be defending Malfoy of all people.

"Stupid prat," he heard Ginny mutter by his side.

"Really wish we could find the git, I'd love to knock some sense into him," George chuckled darkly. "I can't believe Dumbledore didn't even expel him; for all we know he got off spot clean."

"That's not fair!" Ron exclaimed angrily. "He should be punished for what he did—almost killed me he did."

Hermione laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. "And he will be punished sweetheart I'm confident your siblings and Harry will make sure of that."

Harry raised his head from the chess set. Hermione expected them to what—beat up Malfoy? Hermione, the girl who went around preaching equal rights between wizard and magical creature; the girl who believed things could always be settled with words rather than violence was telling them to get back at Malfoy? He couldn't believe this.

"So what's up with you Harry?" Fred spoke, "you haven't said anything in a while. What's going on in the head of the Chosen One?"

Harry grinned softly although he had no idea how to reply. Almost instantly the doors opened, allowing the elder Weasleys through them.

"Hello children," Mrs. Weasley smiled softly. She walked forward to Ron and gave him a kiss on the forehead before moving on to her other children not excluding Harry or Hermione. Mr. Weasley gave them all a smile and patted Ron on the shoulder.

"Poppy?" Mr. Weasley called. "Where has that woman wondered off to?"

"Right here Molly," Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office with a smile.

"How are you my dear? Is Ron allowed to eat solids yet? I've brought him some things from home," she asked Pomfrey eagerly. In her hands she held a small bag which Harry presumed had an assortment of amazing home-cooked treats.

Pomfrey eyed the crumbs and wrappers all over Ron's bed. "Well let's ask him why don't we? Mr. Weasley do you think you can handle solid food yet when I specifically instructed you to stick to liquids?"

Ron at least had the decency to blush. He mumbled something under his breath causing everyone to laugh in response. "Hey! I'm lucky to be alive. Malfoy could have killed me," he retorted in defense.

Harry was the only one who saw Madam Pomfrey's face sadden. To make matters worse he saw from the very corner of his eye a blond head walk past the infirmary; so did four of the Weasleys unfortunately. Mr. Weasley wasted no time getting to the doors and into the corridor, his wife and children following him swiftly.

"Malfoy!" he called angrily ignoring Mrs. Weasley pulling on his arm. Harry watched the boy stop in his tracks and turn slowly to face the angry mob. _He looks like a mess, _Harry thought to himself. Malfoy's clothes had wrinkles in them, like they had been slept in; he had dark circles under his eyes framed by an unnaturally pale face. His hair was dishevelled enough to rival Harry's.

"Yes Weasley senior?" he asked and Harry marvelled at how much he sounded like Luna. His eyes were focussed above their heads but Harry figured that no one would notice such a thing unless they were staring at Malfoy as he was.

"What you have done to my son is completely unacceptable," the older man said sternly. Malfoy's eyes did not move.

"Which son sir? You have an unhealthy amount of them."

Harry could feel his jaw dropping. He shifted his eyes and saw Mr. Weasley's face turning an ugly shade of red. He could hear Mrs. Weasley whispering into his ear, "Calm down Arthur…." He did not heed his wife's advice, taking a few steps forward as she attempted to hold him back.

"I have a right mind to write to your father!" he spat in fury. Malfoy seemed to be unable to sense all of the malicious intent towards him and just stared at the older man.

"Please do. Send my regards to mother," was all he said softly before leaving them in bewilderment.

"That boy," Mr. Weasley grumbled to his wife, "needs to learn a lesson in respect." He shrugged her arm off rather roughly, Harry thought, and went back inside, most likely to reassure his son that the Malfoy boy was to be dealt with.

"Poor boy," Mrs. Weasley murmured to the empty corridor. She turned to Harry, who was now the only person standing with her. "Let's go back inside," she smiled softly.

"Why do you pity Malfoy?" he said and found that he was quite shocked by his own rudeness. "Sorry," he started hastily, "I didn't mean…"

"It's alright," she reassured him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "Although everyone believes that he has received no punishment for what he has done to Ron," she drifted off. "After seeing him…I think it's safe to say that he is suffering enough."

ʘ§Đ

Was he going insane? He wasn't all that sure. Who knew that spending three days of near solitude would drive someone loony? It was pretty funny if you asked him. He staggered slightly, having lost his balance. Catching himself on the wall Draco chuckled softly remembering his encounter with the Weasleys. What a horrible thing he had done to them, nearly taking the life of their youngest son. Well the fucker deserved it so it wasn't all that bad.

He held on tightly to the wall, feeling his legs shake. His three detentions had been with Professor Sprout and Hagrid and he felt like he had never moved so much in his entire life. Everything hurt; his shoulders and back from digging holes and planting seeds; his feet and thighs from having to chase around some of the chickens that had gotten lose. He had thrown up several times from exertion and ended up in the hospital wing—that is only _after_ he had finished his jobs—in the dead of night feeling utterly dreadful.

He slumped to the ground and hugged his knees to his chest. He was supposed to be going to potions but he really did not have the strength to do anything. He knew he would soon get scolded for this by Dumbledore. Even Severus would be none too happy. Draco figured that even Potty and the Mudblood had made it to class by now. He buried his head in his knees and let out a heavy sigh.

"Draco." His head snapped up and he found himself face to face with Pansy. He said nothing to her. "You've been avoiding everyone for days. What happened to you?" she asked him. He refused to meet her eyes, settling to stare at her shoes instead.

After a while of silence Pansy simply lost her patience and grabbed his arm with a huff. Draco was so shocked by her immense amount of strength that he barely noticed where she was taking him. Finally he realised that she was leading him to the girls' dormitories in their house. She pulled him so they were sitting on her bed and looked him straight in the eye.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked in such a way that implied she wasn't going to take his silence for an answer. He let out a deep breath.

"I have no idea what to say," he responded quietly.

"Why haven't you been speaking to anyone? Why the hell did you nearly kill Weasley? And where the _fuck _are Blaise and Theo?"

Draco at least had the right mind to raise his eyebrows at her language. Never before had he heard Pansy curse in his entire life. She glared at him, waiting for an answer. He swallowed loudly, having absolutely no idea how to tell her the news. He didn't want to tell her all the details and then drop the bomb on her, but he also didn't want to be to blunt about it.

"Over the break…the Dark Lord was at the manor…and Theo and Blaise…" surprisingly enough he did not have to say anymore before he saw Pansy's face crumple.

"They're dead aren't they?" she whispered faintly. He nodded, feeling absolutely wretched once more. She let out a high pitched whimper before covering her face between her hands and sobbing hysterically.

To be honest Draco had no idea what to do. He wasn't exactly the best person when it came to comforting others. He could deal with patting them on the back but reassuring them that it would get better and holding them when they cried was not something he was used to doing. People never came to him when they had problems. But he felt like he couldn't just let Pansy cry by herself. He couldn't just sit there and watch her mourn for the death of two people that were incredibly close to him. So he swallowed the awkwardness that overwhelmed him and put a hand on her shoulder.

He certainly did not expect her to throw herself at him. He felt all of the air rush out of his lungs as Pansy wrapped her arms around his neck and burrowed her face in his chest. "Oh Pansy," he murmured. One hand was wrapped around her waist and the other was stroking her hair softly. Her sudden wailing startled him and he almost stopped what he was doing until she squeezed him tighter. He had no idea how long until she stopped but he did know that his back was killing him something fierce.

"Why aren't you crying?" she whispered in his chest. He let out a sigh that came from the very pit of his soul. "I don't think I have any tears left." She raised her head then and he gave her a sad smile, which was more simply a small upturn of his lips. "I don't believe you," she said before sitting upright and wiping her wet cheeks with the backs of her hands.

"You look better," he commented. Of course she didn't look physically better; her cheeks were a horrible splotchy red, her eyes swollen and she had a fair amount of mucus on her face as well. But all things considered she looked better now than when she was crying.

She sneered at him. "Believe me I'm not done. I have no idea how long it will take me to get over this," she said sadly.

Draco felt a flash of anger. How long it would take _her _to get over this? How about _him? _He had been with Theo and Blaise nearly every hour of his life and she was commenting on how _she _would be lost without them.

"I really did like him Draco," she spoke softly. Almost as if she believed that if she spoke above a whisper it would somehow let her emotions flow through her once again. "It wasn't just a fanciful crush either. I've liked Blaise since fourth year." She looked up from her hands and met his eyes almost as if she was daring him to question her.

He huffed; even in her vulnerability Pansy still had the menacing traits of a true Slytherin. But he now understood why it was bothering her so much. She was in love with Blaise and now he was dead. Theo certainly received no tears from Pansy Parkinson. It's not like it mattered anyways. Pansy's tears were worth almost nothing.

He rose off of the bed and made to grab his bag. "Wait!" she called after him. "Where are you going?" Draco rolled his eyes. "To class Pansy, where else do I have to be?"

"Why?" she asked him suddenly. _Because I don't want to remain in a room with you, because I don't want to listen to you cry, because I don't want to be reminded of them. _"Because I have to," he replied coldly.

"Why did you nearly kill Weasley?"

_Enough with the bloody questions! _He stared at her with the darkest look he could muster—teeth gritted in annoyance—enjoying the sight of her visibly wilt under his glare,

"Because I felt like it."

ʘ§Đ

Today had to be about one of the most tiring days of his life. First he had seen the Weasleys and had to avoiding being murdered by them. Later he had to take care of Pansy which he really did not want to do. And now he had detention with Trelawney which was certainly going to be _spectacular_. She'd probably have him shine all of her crystal balls or make him hand wash her tea cups. Well, he thought, and least it wasn't anything extremely physical. He entered the attic-like-room with high hopes of doing nothing that required much brain power. It took Trelawney nearly five minutes to notice he was in the room.

"Ah!" She exclaimed, shocked at his sudden appearance. "My dear boy I did not quite see you there." Draco tried so hard not to roll his eyes at her. "Now why are you here?" she asked him.

This time Draco _did _roll his eyes. "Detention Professor," he replied curtly.

"Ah yes of course. I think I have some teacups that need washing." _Of course, _Draco thought, _teacups. _

She had a surprising amount of them, Draco soon discovered as the never ending piles loomed over him. He had no idea how long he had been washing and then polishing them, trying his hardest to rid them of their dark stains. After what had felt like hours he saw Trelawney's head snap upwards. He watched her eyes glaze over, giving her a distant, faraway look. She was making some sort of sound—somewhere between a hum and a mutter. Suddenly she stopped.

"Mr. Malfoy," she began. "I seem to have run out of tea leaves. There is a patch that I usually harvest them from in the Forbidden Forest."

He blinked once, and then again, before stuttering out, "The F-Forbidden Forest? But isn't it—I dunno forbidden?"

She regarded him with cool eyes that he had never seen on her face before. "I assure you Mr. Malfoy that you are granted entry with the permission of a teacher."

He sighed heavily, feeling a pool of dread in his stomach. There was no way he could get out of doing this task. "Yes Professor," he said.

Trelawney watched the boy leave with a snap of his robes. She hoped he wouldn't get caught in a muddle as he trekked through the forest. It was a very dangerous place after all. Well there was no point in worrying about him, she concluded as she rose from her seat to make herself a cup of tea.

ʘ§Đ

_Snap! _Draco jumped a near foot in the air. He clutched his chest and breathed in heavily, trying desperately to calm himself. Who was he kidding, there was no way he could possibly remain calm in this death trap! He had no wand, no light and no professor that could help him. He didn't need Trelawney to foresee his early death. He gave a loud sniff before proceeding into denser wood. He wasn't sure exactly where this patch of herbal tea that Trelawney fancied so much was. The crazy lady had drawn him a map of course but she wasn't much of an artist.

He stopped briefly to stare at a piece of shrubbery that reminded him of a hippogriff. Draco felt his foot suddenly catch on something and before he knew what was happening he found himself face down inhaling the musky sent of decaying wood. _Shit. _He got up slowly, feeling something wet and hot run down his face. He let out an angry sigh; somehow he didn't expect any better. Honestly at this point he didn't care however much he fell or hurt himself; he just wanted to get back to the school.

After what felt like a half hour he found himself sprawled on the forest floor once again. He sprung up onto his feet. _What the hell! _He glared at the root he had tripped on. It seemed strangely familiar. Now that he thought about it he swore he was staring at the hippogriff shaped shrub. He shrieked loudly, scaring a couple of birds in a nearby bush. _I've been walking in fucking circles haven't I?_ He pulled on his hair, trying not to pay attention to how the long strands had gotten tangled and dirty. He wondered if Potter ever got lost on one of his nightly excursions. He slammed his head against a tree. This was _not _the time to be thinking about Potter. He just needed to keep walking.

Draco rubbed his eyes in weariness. He opened them slowly and squinted from a strange light that had just begun to glow. He rubbed his eyes again, easily assuming that it was just his imagination. The light remained. Maybe there was a clearing up ahead? He asked himself. That would be a nice place to take a rest. Now all he had to do was follow the light. It gave him a sense of comfort, to at least find some sort of direction to go in. In Draco's excitement he failed to notice how the plant life was becoming more and more dead, how the air bit with cold the closer he got to the light.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw upon reaching the clearing. Piles—no heaps—of bodies were scattered throughout the clearing. House elves, unicorns, a thestral and even a couple of centaurs here and there. Something thick and black (he assumed it was blood) stained the earth. Some even stranger creature was perched on top of the largest pile in the centre sucking _something _from the carcasses, reminding him of a Dementor. The thing was on fire some sort of strange green fire that blazed so hot that Draco could feel it scorching his arms. He heard a crunch under his foot and saw that he had crushed the skull of an unknown corpse. He let out a gasp as all the strength left his legs. The creature heard and Draco found himself staring into the empty eyes of what looked to be a hyena. It snarled viciously, spittle flying off its mouth before it flew towards him.

Its front paws slammed into his shoulders, sending him sprawling on his back. He felt its teeth sink into his neck although the skin did not break. It sunk into him, engulfing him with its presence, freezing him to the bone, suffocating him. He kicked with his legs, flung his arms about with no grace but no matter how hard he fought he could feel his limbs starting to get heavy, he could feel his mind clouding over, coherent thought escaping him completely. For once, since his brief encounter with the Dark Lord, Draco felt as if he was going to die.


End file.
